Relapse
by Shannedo
Summary: When Arthur develops a rare condition suffered by dream sharers, he finds his whole world is a lie. Nothing hurts more than waking up one morning and realising your wife is not yours and your child is non-existent. Arthur is still determined to make his dream a reality, but he may have to hurt his best friend to get it. Find Warnings inside.
1. Teaser Chapter

Arthur awoke with a start, the world flashing white before him. Two young faces were at his bedside, faces he hadn't seen in years. Various tubes were attached to his arms and under him was a hospital bed. "What the hell's going on?" he asked, running an unwrinkled hand through his grey-free hair. "What is this, a dream?"

"Arthur, it's okay! You're okay!" a twenty-year-old Ariadne assured him.

"Ariadne, what's happening? Why am I so young?" Arthur asked hurriedly, transfixed on his smooth skin and young body. Then, he jumped. "Where's Annie?"

"Don't dig yourself into a hole, Arthur," Eames warned.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"Arthur, you're safe now! Nothing's going to happen to you!" Ariadne insisted.

Arthur, overwhelmed by her youth and beauty, leaned in for a kiss. A strong arm slammed into his chest and he was knocked back into his pillows. "Ariadne, can you get a nurse, please? He's hysterical," Eames told her and a slightly frightened Ariadne left the room. "Get a grip, Arthur. What ever happened in Relapse, whatever you think you and Ariadne have, it's not real! Don't make a fool of yourself!" he snapped.

"What are you talking about? We're married! And there's Annie, and I'm forty!" Arthur insisted, his whole body shaking.

"No, shut up! It's not real and it never was!" Eames said. He hated to be so harsh but there was no other way.

"Stop it! Annie is real. My daughter is real," Arthur repeated, like saying it aloud would end the doubts he was having.

"Arthur, get a grip, mate!" Eames replied, his voice raising.

With all his strength, Arthur swung at Eames, punching him hard in the face. "Shut up! You're lying! I know you are!" he yelled as Eames fell to the floor, blood dribbling down his chin.

Then a nurse rushed in, accompanied by a flustered Ariadne. Distraught, Arthur wrestled against the bands that tied him to the bed, almost breaking free before strong sleeping drugs reached his veins.

Then he was out cold, the last thing he saw was the tears streaking down his wife's face as she attended to his battered best man.

_**A/N: **__So, this is a rough teaser of my new story, Relapse! I wanted it out before I went on holiday so I won't be uploading for a week. Sorry! Anyways, I hoped you like it, please let me know what you think via the review button! S xxx_


	2. One

_**Please Read! **Story Warnings as are follows: Substance Abuse (drunkenness and mentioned drug abuse), scenes of a mild sexual nature, strong language and strong violence._

_**A/N: **So, I'm very excited about this! Fair warning, the first few chapters will be rather fluffy and generally not much like the teaser, as this is the world and the Ariadne Arthur creates for himself. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and pretty please let me know what you think via the review button! I love knowing you like what I write and constructive criticism helps me make it more enjoyable for you! I think the story is worth a T but please tell me if you think otherwise._

**One**

Arthur's most hated part of his work was walking away with little more than a congratulatory smile. It was weird for him to spend so long preparing for a job and then suddenly his co-workers were gone. He always missed the regulars in his life when this part came around.

He would continue with his work, he knew that. He would travel the world and go on extravagant adventures, leaving little time for those who didn't come along.

Arthur continued with this most hated part of his life, exiting the plane and walking down various corridors and going through numerous security points towards baggage claim. He cringed at the idea of the empty months to come. Cobb, his best and oldest friend, was finished in the business of extraction and Arthur came to realise he would rarely see him from now on. He would miss Ariadne too, of course, the little Architect that he held a soft spot for.

He even found he would miss Eames, the arrogant English twerp who's dress sense was worthy of a jail sentence. But they would be thrown together again, that was for sure. The rich who needed extraction performed always sought out the best in the trade, which meant Arthur and Eames were constantly by each other's sides, ripping at the other's throat.

Arthur noticed the little Architect struggling with her bag and went over to her, collecting his own bag on the way. "Need any help?" he asked her with a smile.

Ariadne looked up to see the Point Man smiling down on her, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling. "That would be great," she replied quietly and allowed Arthur to take her suitcase. Together, they exited the airport, Arthur doing his best not to punch Eames' snarky grin from his face. "I have a cab number," Ariadne told him when they got outside, pulling a card from her pocket.

"Where are you headed?" Arthur asked, hoping he didn't sound nosy.

"My parents' place," she answered with a dainty smile, dialling the number on her cell phone.

Arthur found himself wondering when was the last time he contacted his parents or his brother. They knew very well that Arthur worked in an illegal trade and wanted little to do with him, but the young man persevered to the best of his abilities.

By the time Ariadne was off the phone, Arthur was deep in thought, his eyes clouded over. "Hey, Arthur, snap out of it!" she said with a giggle, waving a hand before his eyes.

Arthur shook his head clear of his daydream as he looked down at Ariadne. "Sorry, it's been a long day," he apologised, rubbing his eyes absent-mindedly.

"It's okay," she told him with a smile as her taxi pulled up. She reached out to shake his hand, "Until next time, Arthur."

Arthur surprised her by bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. "I can't quite wait, Ariadne," he replied, his eyes twinkling like stars.

The Architect got into the cab with a silly smile plastered to her face, where Arthur handed her her bag. Then, she was driven off into the city, leaving Arthur to phone a taxi and wait.

"That was incredibly fifties of you, Arty!" came a snide voice. Of course it was Eames, Arthur felt he would never be free of him. "And by fifties, I mean the fifteen fifties. Kissing her hand? What is this, a period drama?"

"Mr Eames, you're lucky I haven't beaten you half way to hell by now," Arthur said coolly as the Forger joined him on the curb side.

"As if you'd have a chance, darling," Eames remarked, lifting the edge of his black shirt to flash an intimidating set of abs.

"Women may love you for your pecks but we both know I'd kick your ass anytime. You're slow, not to mention old," Arthur quipped, smiling his easy smile.

Then, Arthur felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as Eames grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. Arthur couldn't help but admire his elder, he was quick, strong and had immobilized Arthur one-handed without even looking. "Watch your mouth, Arty. A tongue as sharp as yours could land you in all sorts of trouble!" Eames guffawed as Arthur's cab pulled up. He released the Point Man before climbing in with a smirk, telling the driver where he wanted to go and slamming the door shut.

Arthur grimaced at Eames. "Little-" he began, the rest of his words drowned out by the screech of tire on tarmac as the cab drove off into LA. "Stuff it, Arthur muttered, walking round the side of the airport where he eventually found a free cab.

"Where to, son?" the driver asked.

Arthur reeled off his LA address and lay back in the seat, feeling fatigue set it. He'd never been this tired after a job but he put it down to the sheer scale of Inception and the effort it required.

"Long flight?" the cab driver asked when he heard Arthur's sighs.

"Oh, you have no idea!" Arthur replied with a small smile. He snoozed on the journey home and tipped the kindly old man generously when they arrived. Soon, he was upstairs in his cold, misused flat. It existed solely for Arthur to know he belonged somewhere and wasn't just floating around the world like a stray dog.

Arthur liked knowing he belonged somewhere and as he stood in the shower, rinsing away the worries of the mission, he thought of where his future would bring him. For now, the future was a dark haze of unknown, but then again, Arthur had never known where life would take him and what awaited him. Surprises came out of nowhere. According to Mr Eames, Arthur had been on three Most Wanted Criminals lists in his career, in Italy, New Zealand and Kazakhstan. Eames had then went on to boast about how his track record was much better. He was on five Most Wanted lists last year alone.

But then, Arthur was just starting and he had a funny feeling that by the time he was finished in Dream Sharing, he'd be wanted by a lot more countries than three. It was something the three regulars to the Team often competed over. Cobb held the prize until a few hours ago, wanted dead or alive by seven countries including the USA, not to mention Cobol Engineering and several other colossal corporations. Arthur had no doubts Cobol still had a vendetta against his friend, but his name had otherwise been cleared, thanks to Saito.

Now Eames was top dog and Arthur was dreading hearing about it on their next job. The Point Man got out of the shower and dried himself off before pulling on old sweat pants and going to bed. The soothing quiet of the flat lulled him to sleep as he put all thoughts of the future out of his mind.

* * *

The Point Man's phone awoke him the next morning. With a groan, he sat up and plucked it from the bedside table, lazily putting it to his ear without checking Caller ID.

"Hey, Arthur!" Came Cobb's bright, elated voice.

"Dom," Arthur greeted with a yawn.

"Sorry if I woke you up but it is midday," Cobb said with a chuckle. "I was wondering if you wanted to meet the team tonight for my retirement party."

"What happened to staying inconspicuous after dreams?" the ever alert Arthur asked as he wandered through to his kitchen.

"Oh, we can make an exception!" Cobb offered, causing Arthur to sigh.

"Alright, I'm in," Arthur told him in an exasperated tone.

Cobb reeled off the time and place before bidding Arthur goodbye and hanging up. Arthur was elated to hear about a get together with his team but he knew it wasn't safe. He was surprised Cobb would break such a rule.

Nevertheless, Arthur ate and got himself ready, despite there being hours before the meal. He had nothing better to do. If the phone call had not came it was likely Arthur would have spent the day in bed.

When the time finally came, he called a cab and was brought to the restaurant. It was Cobb's favourite, a luxurious Italian. "Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?" the young waiter asked at the door.

"I'm here for the retirement party," Arthur said smoothly.

"Right this way, sir," the waiter answered and led Arthur through the busy dining room. Up ahead, Arthur spied Cobb and Yusuf deep in conversation, being the only two who had arrived yet. The waiter handed the Point Man a menu and left him to take a seat.

"Hello, Arthur!" Cobb said brightly as Arthur sat down next to Yusuf.

"Hey," Arthur replied with a small grin.

Yusuf and Cobb continued their conversation over compounds that Arthur didn't understand in the slightest, leaving the younger man to gaze over his menu and await the arrival of the others.

Arthur spied Eames out of the corner of his eye and didn't look up until Ariadne came out of the cab next to him. They greeted each other and were shown to the table. Upon realising Arthur was looking, Eames snaked an arm around Ariadne's shoulders, his shark-like grin splayed across his face. Ariadne was taken aback but didn't protest out of politeness and Arthur averted his eyes to his menu, trying to disguise his anger-flushed cheeks.

"Ladies first," came Eames' heavily accented voice, allowing Ariadne to take the seat opposite Arthur. The Point Man carefully directed a glare at Eames, making sure Ariadne did not catch it. "Nice to see you again, darling!" Eames quipped as he sat down next to Ariadne.

"Go to hell," Arthur answered dryly.

"Let's not do this!" Cobb said, rubbing his forehead methodically.

"What is it with you two?" Ariadne asked them with a grin.

"You don't want to know," The two men said in perfect unison.

"Let's just leave it at that," Cobb told them. "Anyway, thanks for coming along. Never before have I worked with such a talented, professional group of people, even if every morning I'm scared my Point Man may be dead and my Forger may be locked up for murder."

Arthur chuckled. "I think we all know who'd win that fight!" he said.

"You're looking at him!" Eames added, pointing to himself, earning laughs from the others.

The Point Man could only sigh. Eames made his head hurt at the best of times and Arthur was sure tonight would not be the 'best'.


	3. Two

**Two**

Arthur rolled his eyes and bit back a sharp retort as the waiter came over to take their order. Soon, steaming bowls of pasta arrived in front of the team and talk all but ceased as they enjoyed the lovely food. Halfway through his meal, Arthur excused himself to the toilet.

As he exited the men's room, Ariadne caught up with him. "Hey," she said, her eyes shining in the dim light.

"Hi," Arthur replied, giving her a warm smile. "I'm sorry about being so snappy earlier."

She laughed. "It's fine! You really shouldn't let Eames get to you like that. He does these things just to annoy you," she tells him.

"That much I figured out when he put his arm around you," Arthur replied glancing over at their table to see Eames staring back, his customary smirk plastered to his face.

"That annoyed you?" Ariadne asked, raising an eyebrow. For a girl so young, she was very smart.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak but could only stutter for a second before looking down at his shoes, causing Ariadne to giggle. "Kiss me, just to make him squirm," she suggested.

Her request took Arthur aback. "I think that would result in more suffering on my part," he managed to get out before Ariadne stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his.

They only kissed briefly before she pulled away, smiled and went into the Ladies room, leaving Arthur staring after her with a stupid look of disbelief on his face. He stood statue still for a second before turning on his heel and slowly meandering back to the table, trying to puzzle out what had just happened.

As he sat down, Eames attacked. "Well well well, Arty's smoother than we give him credit for!" he said with a chuckle. "How'd you get her to kiss you? Tell her you were about to die of loneliness?"

Arthur ignored the incredulous looks he received from Dom and Yusuf and focused on Eames' smug face. "I expected something wittier from you, Mr Eames. You've lost your touch," was all he said before turning back to his meal.

Ariadne returned soon after and Eames draped his arm around her shoulders once more. As the night wore on, he grew increasingly intoxicated, soon slurring his every word.

Arthur was considering taking Eames' drink away before he threw up on poor Ariadne but decided upon sending him home instead. Everyone was tired anyway. So, Arthur bid Cobb and Yusuf farewell and, with the help of Ariadne, hustled Eames out of the restaurant in wait of a taxi.

"Do you know where he's staying?" Ariadne asked.

"He does this a lot, so he always keeps the name of his hotel in his pocket," Arthur explained, reaching into the incoherent Forger's pocket and pulling out a slip of paper.

Ariadne laughed. "He's a very responsible drunk!" she said, making Arthur chuckle. The cab pulled up in front of them and Arthur shoved Eames towards it.

"Now, hold on a second, Arty!" Eames began, barely understandable.

"What?" Arthur asked, opening the cab door and pushing Eames towards it. Eames merely pushed Arthur away and turned to Ariadne.

"He likes you, _like_ likes you, you know what I mean?" Eames said, stumbling around like a lunatic.

And with that, Arthur shoved him into the cab and told the driver where to go. "Sorry, he's crazy," Arthur explained, scratching his head.

"That much I figured out myself," Ariadne replied with a smile.

There was a second of awkward silence between the friends as neither knew what to say after Eames' _revelation_ of sorts. "Hey, it's quite late, do you want me to take you home?" Arthur asked.

"No offence but if my parents saw me getting out of a cab occupied by a strange man in a suit, I think they'd flip," she told him with a grin.

Arthur chuckled, "You're probably right," he said.

* * *

The next morning, the Point Man awoke with a slight hang over. Nothing compared to what he was sure the Forger felt, though. Soon showered and dressed, Arthur was putting last night's suit in his washing machine when he came across a slip of neatly folded paper.

Arthur unfolded it to see a phone number above a small 'A' next to a cute drawing of a bishop. He grinned at the sight of it and was about to pick up his phone when it started to ring. Eames.

"Mr Eames," Arthur greeted coldly.

"Nice to hear from you too, Arthur!" came a slightly croaky voice that sure as hell was a hung over Eames.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked, trying not to snap.

"I was wondering how I assisted you last night before you rudely shoved me into that taxi," Eames admitted.

"You actually remember that? I'm impressed!" Arthur said with a small smirk.

"Don't get me wrong, the rest of the night's a black blur, but I specifically remember telling Ariadne you liked her," Eames answered. "So, what happened? The dance with no pants?"

"What are you, seven? I got her phone number!" Arthur snapped, disgusted at Eames' horrific mind.

"You musn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling!" Eames repeated, one of the many life lessons he wanted Arthur to learn.

"Shut up," Arthur retorted and hung up. "What an asshole..." he muttered under his breath.

Arthur allowed himself to calm down before he called Ariadne, which admittedly took a long time. Eames was able to get under Arthur's skin like no one else.

It was early afternoon before Arthur picked up the phone. It rung a few times before she answered. "I was wondering when you'd call!" came her bright voice.

"Sorry, Eames really knows how to rile me," he answered.

She laughed, "How hung over is he?" she asked.

"Sounds like a mixture of a frog and a baby," Arthur answered with a chuckle.

"Good! He was being really rude last night!"

"He was," Arthur said with a sigh, scratching his head. They chattered idly for a bit as Arthur tried to work up the courage to say what he wanted to say. In the end, he just closed his eyes and shoved it out in one go. "Listen, do you want to get a coffee or something? Without all the other douchebags," he offered.

"Sounds fun!" she said with a giggle, then going on to suggest a cafe and a time.

"See you there, Ari," Arthur told her and they exchanged goodbyes.

* * *

Later, at the cafe, Arthur ordered a decaff and awaited Ariadne's arrival. He was early, which was the mark of a good Point Man. Also a sign that he really didn't have anything better to do.

Ariadne was right on time, buying herself a coffee before sitting opposite Arthur. "Stop looking at me like that! I can afford a coffee!" she said with a smile. "What happened to feminism?"

"I'm all for feminism, but I'm really big on manners too," Arthur explained, taking a sip of his coffee.

She giggled and followed suit, taking another sip. "Has any work come up?"

"Not yet. Are you sure you want to keep going with this, Ari? There's no turning back," he told her.

"Of course!" she replied, rolling her eyes at Arthur's protectiveness. "I'm not a little girl, Arthur!"

"I know, I just want you to know just how illegal what we do is. People will want you dead, Ari!" he insisted, his brow furrowed with concern. What if she went a year or so and realised she'd rather be a normal architect after all?

"It doesn't bother me, to be honest. If I was scared about that I wouldn't have come back at all. And it's addictive, you know. I couldn't leave now," she told him and took a gulp of her coffee.

"It is. When I first started it was like I was on some sort of drug, my head was that messed up," Arthur admitted with a sigh.

"I feel like I could take on just about anything now, after inception."

"It was definitely one of the hardest jobs I've ever taken on! So many layers, the amount of dreamers... if we hadn't pulled it off, I would have lost it with Cobb."

"What happened on Level Two, when the van was in freefall?" Ariadne asked.

Arthur grinned and told her all about the rotating corridor and zero-g. The fascinated young woman listened intently to his tale, a slow smile contorting her lips. "You have a lot more imagination than Eames gives you credit for!" she told him when he finished with the exploding elevator.

"If I really was as bad as Eames let on, I would be dead twenty times over. And I'm not just talking about projections," Arthur said, memories of their youth flooding back.

"In all fairness, I originally thought a kiss would draw attention, not degenerate it," Ariadne pointed out, smiling at the memory.

"In all fairness, I wasn't looking to degenerate attention, I just wanted a kiss!" a laughing Arthur admitted.

Then he spied something out of the corner of his eye. A man sitting down at a table, glancing their way very frequently and moving his hand to his bulging pocket an awful lot. His coat slipped and Arthur saw the butt of a hand gun. "Ari, let's go," Arthur ordered calmly.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked, her smile dissipating.

"Come on," Arthur said, standing and gently taking Ariadne's upper arm, leading her towards the door of the cafe. There was the sound of gunfire and shattering glass as the thug caught on and soon, they were sprinting.

Through the streets and alleys of LA, Arthur and Ariadne ran for their lives, using shouts from pedestrians and loud footsteps to judge how good their lead on the thug was.

Arthur had the area mapped out in his head. He led Ariadne down a crowded pedestrian street, momentarily becoming anonymous. Then the thug shot at a window, causing chaos to descend on the innocents. The civilians scarpered, leaving Arthur and Ariadne desperately trying to find a way to safety. The gunman was closing in and Arthur's heart was leaping.

The Point Man pulled the Architect behind a stone fountain. The sound of crashing water masked their heavy breathing but also muffled the thug's footsteps. Soon, the dreamers lost all sense of their pursuer's location.

There was a clatter above and the thug reacted speedily, shooting towards the source of the sound. It was little more than a bird and the gunman's bullet collided with the stone head of the fountain's cherub. The crumbly stone sprayed everywhere an Ariadne let out a scream.

As the lone gunman closed in, Arthur spoke fervently to Ariadne. "Run to the alley beside the big cineplex. I'll meet you there," he told her, kissing her on the cheek before jumping out from behind the statue and taking off down a side street.

The architect watched in awe for a second and waited for the thug to go after him before sprinting in the opposite direction.

_**A/N:** So, I have a lot of Relapse material written and pretty much ready for publication, due to me writing a hell of a lot on city buses whilst I was on holiday! Please let me know what you think via the review button or please favourite! It truly makes my day! S xxx_


	4. Three

**Three**

Arthur ran like an Olympic sprinter, dodging cars and people in his quest to escape. The gunman shot at his head, which the Point neatly ducked. He led the thug through the farmer's market, knocking stock off of stalls in an attempt to buy himself time to think. Within minutes, a plan of sorts formed in Arthur's head.

He swerved down an alley and hid in the shadows, pulling his own hand gun from his belt. Breathing as quietly as possible, he watched as the thug followed him, weapon at the ready. For an assassin, he sure wasn't very smart. The Point Man was relying on this. As soon as the gunman was in range, Arthur shot him in the knee, averting his gaze as the thug crumpled to the ground, yelling in agony. Arthur remembered the pain from the time Mal's shade shot him. It was pure, undiluted torment.

When the blood curling screams were finished, Arthur snatched up the thug's gun and sprinted away, doubling back and coming to the alley next to the cineplex, his heart racing in his chest.

Ariadne was stood next the dumpsters, relief washing over her when Arthur arrived, unharmed. The Point remained calm and in control as he came to the back entrance of his apartment block. He tapped in the entry code on the keypad and went inside, holding the door for Ariadne.

"Are you okay?" he asked as she followed him inside. He closed the door behind her and led her upstairs, dead-bolting his apartment door behind them.

"Of course! Are you?" she replied confidently, drawing the curtains for him and peering through a gap in the fabric at the street below, searching for more assassins.

"Just dandy!" he said with a grin, tossing her the second gun. These sort of scenarios were run of the mill for the Point Man. It was one of the few things in his life that were consistent. Not very comforting to someone as innocent as Ariadne, but somehow reassuring and soothing to Arthur, when he wasn't worried about dying, of course.

She looked down at the killing machine in her small hands for a second. The sight was like a toddler fondling a knife to Arthur, so wrong and horrible. By the look on her face, he guessed she was debating whether she could make herself use it or not. An indifferent shrug followed and soon she was back to looking for gunmen with her hands wound tightly around the weapon, forcing Arthur to think of her as a mature young woman, not a child in need of protection.

Arthur pulled out his phone and called his team members in turn, expressing the feeling he had that they were Cobol's men. Thankfully, he didn't have to explain his interrupted coffee with Ariadne to anyone. Apart from Eames, that is.

"Hello, darling!" He greeted cheerily, making Arthur roll his eyes.

"Eames, Ariadne and I just outran a gunman-" the Point began.

"Ooh! With Ari, are we?" Eames said with a chuckle.

"Shut it. As I was saying, I think Cobol have caught up with us. They want Cobb and I, probably Ariadne for association. Do they want you for any reason? It'll probably be pretty easy for them to find out you came into the country with us," Arthur said quickly.

"You're asking if Cobol engineering want me dead?" Eames asked, chortling. "Darling, they've been shooting at me for as long as I have used a PASIV!"

"Well, just keep hidden, would you?" Arthur snapped, his patience fast deteriorating.

"Whatever, Arty! Love you!" and with that, the forger hung up.

"You weren't kidding when you said Eames knows how to annoy you!" Ariadne laughed as Arthur put away his phone with a groan.

"He focuses harder on annoying me than he does on his job," Arthur replied as he ran a hand through his hair, completely exasperated.

Ariadne chuckled and looked out of the window again. "I think we're safe," she announced.

Arthur nodded and turned on the TV, gesturing to her with one finger. "Let's see what the news have to say," he told her as they slumped down onto the sofa.

"The LAPD are currently investigating the armed chase that took place not ten minutes ago at St. Paul's Shopping Centre. Eye witnesses say they saw a young man and woman both with dark hair running from a lone gunman. One man, fitting the description of the gunman, was later found in an alleyway with a bullet in his knee and it has been confirmed he is the only casualty, meaning his targets have evaded him. All electricity went down in the said district at the time and it is thought it was the work of the gunman's accomplice, ensuring no security cameras had any footage of them. Anyone with information is urged to come forward," said the news woman.

"A big thanks to the gunman's accomplice!" Arthur said with a chuckle as he turned off the TV. "Are you scared yet?" he asked Ariadne, unsure of how he wanted her to answer. On one hand, he loved and admired her courage and attitude, but on the other hand, he wanted her to go back to being an innocent little architecture student in Paris.

"Well, being shot at isn't my idea of a fun afternoon!" she joked, smiling widely. "But, hey, it's part of the job."

"How old are you, Ari?" Arthur asked after a second of silence.

"Twenty," she answered.

"Twenty year old women shouldn't be involved in armed chases!" Arthur told her, sighing heavily and smoothing down his hair in frustration. Ariadne had no idea just how much Arthur wanted her to realise what she was giving up by venturing into this line of work.

"How old were you when people with guns started chasing you, Arthur?" she questioned, looking down at his thin, bony hands and smiling. Ariadne understood perfectly what she was leaving behind. Innocence, a sense of normality, a hope for a normal life and, most of all, her safety. But she really didn't care. The thrill was too much and already had its talons dug hard into her.

"Nineteen," he replied after a moment of hesitation.

She laughed, "Hypocrite!" she said, poking him playfully. Arthur blushed and laughed with her, taking her hand in his and kissing it, "You have no idea how scared I was for you," he admitted.

"I think I felt just as scared for you," she told him and kissed him on the cheek, allowing her lips to linger there for a second.

Slowly and gently, Arthur turned his head and brought his lips to hers, instantly losing himself in the moment. Never before had the Point Man fallen for a girl like this, and there had been a lot of women in his life. He found himself wondering if Ariadne was his first love, the first woman he'd loved with his heart, not his body. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening their kiss, feeling like if he let go she'd be lost for forever. And it seemed she felt the same, as she knotted her hands around his neck, lost in his taste and his smell.

In an instant, the scenario changed drastically. The door banged open, the deadbolt flying clean off and the pair jumped to their feet, all joy they felt quickly making way for fear. They scrambled for their guns, which had been discarded to the floor and aimed them at the door. Arthur went as far as popping the safety latch before fear gave way to disgust.

"Hello, darling!" came an all too familiar leer.

Arthur rolled his eyes and stifled a groan, "Eames," he greeted sourly. Eames stepped through the doorway and inspected the deadbolt, which lay halfway across the room. He then shut the door like little had happened and turned to the dangerously close duo, his smirk giving way to his favourite shark grin.

"My turn, Ari!" said the Forger, stepping forward and kissing Arthur full on the lips before shoving him aside, causing the Architect to giggle uncontrollably. Arthur caught himself before he fell to the ground, putting the safety catch back on his gun, even if he did want to do something nasty and unspeakable to Eames. "Just swung by to check you were alive! Arthur and I are quite good at outrunning gunmen," Eames said, momentarily reminiscing his past with the uptight Point Man.

"And I've had a lot of practice, thanks to Mr Eames," Arthur snapped, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Oh, the good old days!" Eames said gleefully, flopping down on Arthur's sofa and turning the TV on, flicking over to some sort of panel show.

"How exactly do you know where I live?" Arthur asked with a grimace.

The Forger cocked his head to look at Arthur, a teasing glint in his warm hazel eyes. "Darling, do you honestly want to know?" he asked, his grin exposing his charmingly crooked teeth and setting his eyes alight.

Horrific pictures of impersonations, extraction and god knows what flashed through Arthur's mind, every one of them making him want to vomit. "On second thoughts, no, not really," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, then watch TV with me! You too, Ari, we'll crack out the popcorn and everything!" the older man suggested, gesturing roughly at the flat screen with the remote.

As quick as a flash, Arthur had a satisfactory excuse. "Actually, I'd better take Ariadne home. There might be other Cobol thugs out there," he told the irritating forger.

Ariadne nodded, grinning at the humorous exchange that just took place before her. "My parents will be paranoid. They know I was near St. Paul's," she explains with a kind smile to Eames and a be-nice look to Arthur.

"And with good reason! Not every day your little princess gets shot at! Well, my little princess does, eh, Arty?" Eames asked, winking at the point man.

"Go to hell," was all Arthur said, shooting Ariadne a see-what-I-have-to-cope-with look before grabbing his car keys and heading towards the door. "I want the deadbolt fixed and you out of here by the time I'm back."

"Whatever, darling. Love you!" Eames replied nonchalantly as the door slammed shut behind the Point and the Architect.

_**A/N: **__Before you ask, no, Eames is not gay and none of the stuff in this chapter was intended as slash! My Eames just absolutely loves messing with and annoying Arthur! Please let me know what you think via the review button and drop a little constructive criticism to help me make the story more enjoyable for you. S xxx_


	5. Four

**Four**

"So how did your parents react when a strange man dropped you off at your house?" Arthur asked as a waiter showed them to their private dining room. Ariadne had been pleasantly surprised when Arthur told her he'd reserved it, but her first question was 'How much did _that _cost?' He'd laughed and told her they'd squabble about the bill later.

Ariadne thought about his question for a second, a smile lighting up her face at the memory. "I think they were just glad you weren't some drunk I picked up at a bar!" she admitted. "They said you didn't seem much older than me, just very mature for... however old you are."

"Twenty-three," he informed her as they sat and were handed menus. The waiter left them for a minute to read and decide. "So, am I in with the parents?" he asked with a dazzling smile.

"I really think so! They're not all that bothered by me dating a guy who dresses like a lawyer!" she replied, smirking a little as she reached across the table and tugged playfully at his tie.

He batted her hand away with a chuckle, pulling his tie straight. "You don't like the way I dress?"

"I love the way you dress! It's really cute, makes you look like a little boy dressing up in his daddy's clothes. That's good, by the way, I like it about you," she answered, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I'll take that as a compliment!" he said. "So, your parents obviously don't know about what we do. How'd they feel about you dating a criminal?"

"By that logic, I'm a criminal too," she replied smoothly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. And she was right, over the past few weeks Arthur had watched the innocent young student shift into a darker, sexier, more mysterious being with eyes that made you want to know more and a smile that said 'Don't mess with me'. He remembered watching others go through the same change before his eyes and pictured himself in a before and after fashion. Yes, there was a certain change you went through when you became a criminal of these proportions.

He pushed these thoughts out of his head, refusing to think about her in such a way. "Very true," he replied with a laugh.

They took a minute to order their drinks and meals, chattering idly until they were alone. Then, Ariadne asked one of the many burning questions she had for this mysterious man. "So, how did you get in to dreaming and being a Point Man?" she said.

He nodded, finding it natural she wanted to hear his origin story. Arthur didn't find his story very spectacular after hearing about Dom's estranged wife and Eames' gambling and loan shark debts, but he told it anyway, knowing Ariadne would just want to know more if he explained how dull it was. "Cobb found me studying psychology at Miles' university when I was eighteen," he began, giving an absent minded grimace at the memory of his college days. "He was really thorough in describing the job, saying everyone would hate me for being the one to point out the flaws they couldn't be bothered fixing," he explained, "But when I first went into a dream, I just couldn't stay away. There's..." he trailed off, a slow smile lighting up his eyes.

"Nothing quite like it," Ariadne finished in a whisper.

Arthur could only grin at her, "Genuinely surprised you remember that!"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked with a smile.

"'Cause I'm so pretentious, always bullshitting about something! I'm surprised you actually listen!" he replied with a laugh.

"Shut up, you're not pretentious and I always listen!" she insisted with a smile. "So, is that why Eames likes to mess you around? Payback for your plan-poking?"

"Oh, no! That is a totally different story!" he replied.

"Can I hear it?"

"No, you next! We'll trade stories," he proposed.

After a small sigh, Ariadne nodded her approval, leaving Arthur to choose his question carefully.

"Why architecture?" he asked finally.

"Well, I guess I just think it would be awesome to have designs that I have worked so hard on become real, unmovable, permanent structures. Buildings take thousands of years to meet their demise and in a world that shifts and changes so quickly, that's good enough for me," she replied with a smile.

Arthur was silent, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.

"What?" she asked, slightly worried.

"No, nothing! I just didn't realise how much it all meant to you, I guess," he stuttered after mentally shaking himself.

"It's not very often that people as smart as you stop and smell the roses, is it?" she questioned with a teasing smile.

"People as pretentious as me hardly ever do! I take all this for granted, like it's a given. Whereas people as smart and insightful as you are the only ones who can see everything with its true complexity and beauty..." he trailed off.

"Pretentious people don't realise they're pretentious, though. I think you're like me, you just won't give yourself the credit," she replied, poking him on the shoulder. "Moving onwards, what's the story with Eames?"

"You really want to know?" Arthur asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" she answered determinedly.

"It's rather long, fair warning," he began. "Well, I first met Eames five years ago, a few months after I got in to dream sharing. We got along swimmingly to start, because I was essentially a younger version of him. I loved to party, drink, pick up cute girls and just generally be an idiot. So we were in London, specifically the housing estate he grew up in and eighteen year olds can legally drink in the UK. He had me too drunk to speak clearly in an hour flat and a few shady back door deals later he had a bag of... every illegal substance you can imagine," Arthur paused, woozy at the memory. Ariadne was shocked beyond speech. "So, we did it all."

"In one night?"

"In one night," he replied, causing her to gasp. "I woke up a week later in hospital with people repeatedly telling me how close I came to dying. After that, I never trusted Eames again and I rarely went out. He's still trying to coax the old Arthur out of me, though."

"You... did that?" She asked.

Arthur nodded solemnly as their meal arrived. "I'm not proud of it but, hey, you learn from your mistakes."

They were quiet for a few minutes as they began to eat. "So, if you aren't too shell-shocked..."

Ariadne laughed. "I'm go to college. I've heard worse, Arthur! I'm just surprised I'm hearing it from you!"

"I'm not even going to ask!" he said with a chuckle. "What do students do these days with their spare time, then? Aside from getting drunk or stoned, obviously!"

"I've never been stoned, for your information!" she told him. "Anyway, shouldn't you know?"

"Not really, I dropped out in '42, a few weeks after I met Cobb. There was no point in me being there when I had work lined up," he replied.

"Well, there's parties, the movies, comedy clubs and concerts," she listed.

"Who do you see, concert-wise?" he asked.

"Oh, it depends. I really enjoyed Temper Trap when they played here," she admitted when they were finished eating.

"I love Temper Trap. For a second I was scared you'd name one of those pathetic boy bands that are forever jacking the pop charts," Arthur said with a smile.

"I know what you mean! But some of them are okay," she told him.

"Yeah, some are tolerable, like Train," he allowed.

"Exactly," she added and started to hum one of their hits.

Arthur joined in, singing softly. He couldn't contain his lovely smile as they continued, like children in the playground.

When they finished, Ariadne giggled a sweet, girly giggle. "You're a great singer!" she told him.

"As are you, Ari!" Arthur insisted as a waiter took away their empty plates. "Dessert?"

After a second of consideration, a devilish smile took over her lips. "I've got a better idea!" she replied.

Ariadne insisted on paying half of the bill and dragged Arthur off to a karaoke bar. "Do you trust me to not land you in a coma?" she asked him as they stood at the bar. Her wallet was in hand and a fake ID was at the ready.

Arthur was silent for a second, lost in her smile and her voice and her sparkling eyes. Then, he shook himself back to reality. "Yeah," he said, not entirely sure what she asked.

"Good!" the architect replied then turned to the bartender. "Two Jack and Cokes, please!"

Arthur chuckled at her choice of drink. "What shall we sing?"

"Depends. Have you heard of The View?" she asked as the bartender poured their drinks.

"I think so," he replied, picturing the Scottish boy band perfectly.

"I'll sing Grace and you sing How Long. Game?" she proposed.

"Very," was his reply.

As he leant against the bar, drinking his Jack and Coke and listening to Ariadne sing, Arthur thought he'd never heard such a brilliant singer.

When it came to his turn, Arthur sung like he never had before, desperate to impress her. By the massive grin on her face, he presumed he had. He hoped so, by any rate.

They proceeded to drink, chat and sing for the rest of night. When the early hours of the morning came and the bar closed, the dreamers called it quits.

"I should take you to the Temper Trap concert in September," A drunken Arthur mused as they waited outside for a taxi.

"That would be so fun!" Ariadne said. "We'd have to buy front row tickets, though!"

"Duh! You're awesome, you know that, right?" he told her with a chuckle.

"Meh, you're awesomer!" Ariadne insisted, elbowing him playfully.

Arthur swung an arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear, "You're awesomer-er!" he said.

"Do you see Eames?" she asked.

"Nope, why?" Arthur replied, his brow furrowing with confusion.

Ariadne got up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his.

All cloudiness caused by drinking cleared from Arthur's head as pure ecstasy took over. He took a firm but careful grasp of Ariadne's hips, pulling her closer, revelling in her touch, scent and taste. He'd never felt so alive.

She responded just as enthusiastically, knotting her hands into his already messy umber brown hair. Even through her t-shirt, Arthur's touch burned her.

But, as per usual, it did not last for long. Ariadne's cab arrived and the dishevelled point man was forced to let her go and bid her farewell.

As the Architect's taxi sped away into the night, Arthur found himself missing her already.

'Only fools fall in love' was one of the many life lessons Eames had drummed into Arthur over the years when he wasn't busy almost killing him.

"Heck, I'm happy to be a fool," Arthur said aloud.

_**A/N:** This is how much I love writing this story, I updated twice in twenty four hours! Ask anyone, this is record breaking stuff for me, I normally update every two weeks! As always, I'm so excited you actually bother to read my writing. I work so hard on it and I'd absolutely love it if you dropped a review. Even "I liked this" makes me more excited than a kid on Christmas morning! S xxxxxxxxxx_


	6. Five

**Five**

"It's a bit surreal, to be honest, how quick the last fifteen years have been," Arthur admitted to his friend as they walked the sun baked streets of Paris. "Felt like only yesterday I pulled you into the jewellers."

"That was horrific! I'm still scarred from all the sparkly stuff!" Eames replied with a chortle, grinning fondly at the memory of Arthur telling him he was going to propose to Ariadne. "Fifteen years on and we're dads! How's Annie and Ariadne?"

"Oh, great, thanks! Annie had a cold a week or so, ago. We were pretty scared..." Arthur admitted with a sigh. There was something about him that struck the Forger as odd, like he was too resigned and mellow.

They were quiet for a moment as they walked, Arthur reminiscing and Eames wondering how two of the most wanted criminals in Europe came to be boring middle aged office workers with wives and children.

"How did we get here?" He wondered aloud.

"The Arc de Triomphe," Arthur answered simply, pointing back at the colossal structure.

"Not what I meant. How did we get here?" Eames asked again.

"Are you talking about dreams? 'Cause my die feels fine," Was Arthur's answer after he groped around in his pocket for a second, dancing carefully around the subject he suspected Eames was talking about.

"For god's sake, I'm talking about how we became so... boring!" Eames explained with a roll of his eyes, flicking the Point Man's ear. "It's our women that did it!"

"I love my wife!" Arthur pointed out, glancing incredulously at the older man.

"So do I, they've just..." Eames said, struggling for words "domesticated us," he settled on.

"Are you having a mid life crisis or something?" Arthur asked with a chuckle.

"No. I'm being serious, Arthur!" Eames quipped, smoothing down his greying hair fervently. "When I said 'I do' I promised to myself that I wouldn't change... and I broke that promise."

There was a moment of awkward silence as Arthur struggled to come up with a reply."I love my family with all my heart," was all he said.

"And you think I don't? I love my wife and my kids, I just miss the good old days," He told him with a heavy sigh.

Arthur grimaced at the horrible memories in which his friends and his lover came so close to harm and death. He loved his old work but it was just too dangerous. "Marriage requires compromise, Tom. Ariadne and I quit our work to have kids," Arthur reprimanded, which was followed by quiet. It was ironic, he thought, that Eames used to give him all these life lessons and now Arthur was the teacher.

"Since when have you called me that?" Eames asked sourly, deciding to break the quiet first.

"Calling you by your first name is more civilise-" Arthur answered.

"Domesticated," Eames cut across, making Arthur groan with disdain. "So what you're telling me is that you don't miss it at all?" he asked.

Arthur stuttered for a moment, thinking about it as fleetingly as possible. "Maybe I do miss dream sharing, but I don't regret a thing," he snapped.

Eames raised his hands in a plea of innocence but otherwise closed his case, assuming Arthur's love for the thrill of the dream had vanished with age.

This was partially true, for Arthur became a new being the first time he held little Annie. All thoughts and time he had were now centred around his young family. But perhaps somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, outweighed and smothered by greater concerns, was a small part of the man that still wanted the dreams and their pure creation.

Thomas Eames, however, was a child at heart. He doubted he would ever outgrow or forget his love of the dream, no matter how dearly he loved his family.

The next time Arthur looked up, Eames was gone and the world was unusually bright. As he began to panic, pain shot through him, white hot and causeless. The world went white and slowly, Arthur returned to life.

* * *

_"The person you're calling is not available right now, please leave a message after the tone,"_ came the cool and collected female voice on the other line.

Dom cut off the call with a frustrated grunt.

"Is he still not picking up?" Ariadne asked between sips of her milkshake.

"No. I'm getting worried," Dom admitted, cradling his lukewarm coffee in his sweaty hands.

"You should check on him," Ariadne proposed as she reached across the table and took his hands in hers. "It's been days since we got here, who knows what happened?"

Dom stared down at their interlocked hands, the knot of worry in his stomach growing larger with every passing moment. "I have a hunch, I just really hope I'm wrong," he replied.

With that, the extractor put a twenty dollar bill on the table to pay for their drinks and get her home.

"I can pay for a milkshake, Dom!" she said with a giggle.

"Yeah, well, I'm the gentleman! I'm sorry about this, some other time?" he asked.

Ariadne nodded and smiled. "Just make sure Arthur's okay," she insisted.

Dom got up and kissed her on the cheek before leaving the cafe. Once outside, he hailed a cab and reeled off Arthur's LA address before sending the Point Man yet another text, to which there was no reply.

The extractor tried desperately to convince himself he was overreacting and that maybe Arthur just bought a new phone and wasn't telling him yet for some security purpose.

But he knew in his heart that it wasn't so trivial. Thoughts of Cobol, the government, bounty hunters and, yes, relapse came to him like swarms of insects.

It wasn't until Dom's cab arrived at Arthur's apartment block that he thought about how he didn't have access to the building. If Arthur didn't let him in, he was stuck out here.

As Dom suspected, Arthur didn't answer his buzzer. The extractor stood outside for a few minutes, unsure of how to proceed.

Eventually, he decided on Eames. The forger would know, there was nothing he enjoyed more than messing with Arthur's head.

He picked up after a few rings. "Hello, Dom!" he greeted cheerily.

"Hey, Eames. I need a little help with breaking in to Arthur's apartment. He's not answering the buzzer," Dom explained.

Then came the rich, throaty chuckle Dom knew all too well. "I see I have a lot of influence on your behaviour, Dominic! Just try later, or give him a call. Breaking in is low, even by my standards!" he replied, his voice ringing with bemusement.

"I _have_ been calling him. Continuously. For days. I'm really worried!" Dom admitted, trying to dry his hands on his shirt.

"No reply at all?" the younger man asked, his humorous tone shifting to something a little more appropriate.

"None," Dom replied, his breathing quickening.

With that, Eames rattled off the gate code and the location of the spare key. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

So, Dom hung up and made his way to the correct door, scrabbling around in a plant pot for the spare key. He tried to repress ideas of exactly _how_ Eames had this information, it was rather disturbing. But then, the Forger and Point Man were like brothers in reality. Cat and dog, but very alike in a lot of ways and, even if they wouldn't admit it, they were the best of friends. Finally, after fumbling around and putting on a natural act to anyone who passed him, Dom got into Arthur's apartment.

"Arthur," he called. "It's Cobb!"

There was no reply. Dom opened the door he presumed to be a bedroom and went inside. The curtains were drawn and it was wickedly warm, but in the dim light, he could see his friend sprawled out on his bed, sleeping soundly. At first, Dom grinned in relief and gently called to him, trying to coax him out of sleep, which didn't work.

Then, he went to the foot of the bed and started to shake him, growing a little panicked.

"Arthur, wake up," he said, shaking him hard and switching on the light. The energy saving bulb cast a ghostly glow on the room, illuminating the Point Man's face, which was awful shade of grey and slick with sweat.

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing. "Dom-in-ic!" Eames cried in a sing song voice, making his older counterpart jump at his speed.

"In here," Dom replied, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

Eames burst into the small room, his jaw going slack at the sight of the unconscious Point man. He was quick to move to his side, checking his pulse. "It's weak, he's in relapse," he confirmed, trying not to panic.

"Have you treated it before?" Dom asked, slightly hysterical.

"Witnessed it, yes, seven years ago," Eames explained, giving a weak attempt at a consoling look, "You can't treat it, it's a case of waiting for him to wake up and hoping he won't go insane when he finds out it's all a lie."

"What's a lie?"

"His biggest dream that became a 'reality'," he replied, putting air quotes around the word 'reality'. "He might have billions of dollars or had a deceased loved one resurrected. Maybe he'll have married the girl he's in love with, possibly had kids with her. That's quite a common one."

"You mean he might wake up and his children won't exist?" Dom asked, completely mortified. When he imagined himself in that situation, waking up one morning to see James and Philippa weren't real, he found himself shivering, and as he looked down on Arthur's rigid form, he already felt pitiful.

"Exactly," Eames said. "An hour can be months down there. The parts of his mind that induce and create dreams have rebooted themselves and he's basically in a coma. It's a rare condition suffered by dream sharers, affects about one in ten thousand." he added, his breathing becoming rapid as he anxiously glanced at Arthur.

"You mean it'll happen to him all the time?"

"No, it's not a recurring thing. He'll get it once and if he doesn't go mental, he's doing well," he said grimly, pulling out his phone and dialling 911. Soon, an ambulance was on its way. "The hospital will keep him alive until he wakes up."

"How do you explain a condition suffered by criminals to medical personnel without getting him locked up for life?" Dom asked, flattening his hair.

"We'll just say we found him like this and we'll come up with some sort of explanation later, when he's awake," Eames said rapidly.

* * *

Days passed and the Point remained comatose, unresponsive and vulnerable. Eames was always there, just waiting for his little brother to wake. Ariadne was there too, almost always, but Eames insisted she sleep in her own bed, knowing Arthur would never forgive him for allowing her to waste away in a hospital like he was allowing himself to. Dom was less regular, preferring to worry from home in the presence of his children.

"What'll happen when he wakes up?" Ariadne asked one night as her eyelids began to droop.

The unshaven, shabby forger sighed heavily, trying to pull together a comforting response. "Best case scenario, he forgets and moves on," was all he said.

"Worst case?" she prompted.

Eames glanced sideways at the little Architect, her wide, serious eyes telling him she deserved a truthful answer. "Insanity, suicide, or plain doesn't wake up at all."

Ariadne could only nod as she stared at her limp, unconscious friend who looked so different in sleep. Peaceful and inattentive. "Normally, he's so vibrant and confident," she said, rubbing her forehead methodically.

"Not to mention hole poking and big headed," he added, making Ariadne giggle. "But I love him all the same, he's the little brother I never had."

"He is awesome," Ariadne agreed. "And he'll survive, he has us."

Eames could only smile sadly. "Ari, you should probably be getting home-"

Arthur's eyes flickered under his lids, lips twitching ever so slightly. Eames all but jumped to his feet. "Arthur?" he called.

A small, guttural groan was Arthur's reply as his body slowly came back to life. Ariadne's eyes watered up as she took one of his hands in hers.

"Ari-Ariadne," Arthur stuttered, his eyelids flickering fervently.

"I'm here!" she replied excitedly, a single tear rolling down her rosy cheeks.

"Tom?" he asked groggily.

"Hey, mate," the forger replied, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

Then, it was like he'd been kicked back to life, his eyes snapping open at the speed of mouse traps. Arthur's body was well and alive, but his eyes told a completely different story.

_**A/N: **Yes! Three updates in three days! I'm on a roll! I'll be returning to school on Tuesday after my summer holidays so please don't be too sad if I start updating less frequently! As always, please let me know what you think via the review button as it helps me make Relapse better for you! S xxxxxx_


	7. Six

**Six**

After ten minutes of insisting he was fine, a bleeding Eames sat back down at Arthur's bedside, his chest heaving with fear. "Are you sure you're okay?" Ariadne asked as she sniffed, wiping away all traces of her tears.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Eames insisted in a deadpan tone, wiping away the blood that came out of the corner of his mouth.

"What happened?" she asked as she took her seat once more, determined she wouldn't budge until Arthur was well.

"I told him none of it was real and that he shouldn't dig himself into a hole, so I got a punch in the face. A bloody strong one to," he muttered, his eyes trained on the once more peaceful Point Man.

"What was his reality down there?"

"From what I gathered, he married... a girl, and had a daughter with her, called Annie," Eames explained, not wanting Ariadne to know something Arthur should tell her himself.

"That's my mom's name..." Ariadne pointed out after a second of silence, causing Eames to squirm.

"Weird coincidence," was all he said.

It was hours before Arthur woke again and by that point he was incoherently groggy.

"Do you think he'll go off the rails again?" the architect asked as the late night turned to early morning.

Eames could only nod grimly as Arthur murmured and twitched. "Ari... Annie..." he muttered over and over.

It didn't take a genius to figure out just who Arthur's relapse wife was and quite frankly, Ariadne was terribly guilty. The morning after Arthur woke up, she called Dom in to talk. "It was me. He created a whole life for us in his subconscious," she told him in the corridor outside Arthur's room.

"I figured that much. Arthur has been with a lot of women but I've never seen him look at one of them like he looks at you," Dom admitted, gazing sadly into Ariadne's large, sleep-deprived eyes. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to help him through this... as a friend. It's you I like," she told him, her voice slightly croaky.

"That's sweet but it will make it harder for him. He'll be guilty, jealous and plain angry," Dom pointed out with a sigh, flattening his hair in an anxious fashion.

"I won't abandon him, or you for that matter," Ariadne said, strained and helpless. A part of her wanted the drop dead gorgeous, wickedly funny Point Man unconditionally. Another part of her reminded her why she was with Dom in the first place. He was intelligent, loyal, dedicated and had a heart of gold, which was more than could be said about Arthur, who Ariadne sensed darkness in.

Dom smiled sweetly and bent down to kiss her gently. "I have to go home, but call me if anything changes, okay?" he asked, his eyes saying 'especially if you change your mind'.

Ariadne nodded, gulping down on the lump in her throat.

With one last kiss, the extractor was gone, leaving Ariadne all alone.

Or so she thought.

"Tom told me what happened," came a croaky, decrepit voice from the end of the corridor. Ariadne jumped and turned to see Arthur metres away, gaunt, pale and broken. His eyes were void of their usual sparkle, his face starved of emotion other than pain. It made Ariadne feel sick that this could happen to such a good, kind man.

"That conversation was private," she pointed out, refusing to meet the Point's cold stare.

Arthur shrugged, his pained mask twisting into an hurt grimace. "It concerned me, I had a right to hear," was all he said.

"You have no right to eavesdrop on my personal conversations, whether they concern you or not," Ariadne replied sharply, not wanting to believe this was what Arthur had become.

The Point Man's blood ran cold, his lips twisting into a snarl. Never before had he felt to lifeless, so decrepit. He felt weak, not to mention embarrassed that he'd let some misplaced fantasy take over who he was. But the darker part of him, the one that the good Arthur refused to show, overpowered him in this time of weakness. Right now, just the sight of Ariadne speaking to another man made him want to be sick. "If you've got something to say regarding our good friend, don't be afraid to say it!" he prompted coldly, gesturing roughly at where Dom had stood.

Ariadne just looked at him for a minute, searching for the real man she'd met all those weeks ago. The man who was beautiful, inside and out. "Arthur, I-" she began, and was rendered unsure of exactly what to say.

"I know it was all a dream," he said, close to tears. "But I still want it to be real."

Ariadne could only stutter for a second, opening her mouth and closing it again like a goldfish, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Arthur's eyes clouded over with pain and jealousy. "Thank you," he said, his voice quivering.

"For what?" she asked, the lump in her throat doubling in size.

"For not leading me on. For not letting me think it could become real."

* * *

Ariadne was shaken to say the least after her encounter with the heartbroken Point Man. She left soon after, getting Eames to promise to call her if anything happened. Eames had reprimanded the Point for taking out his pain on the innocent Ariadne, but Arthur refused reasoning.

"You should go home, sleep, shave," Arthur pointed out later as he downed a concoction of painkillers. "Eat," he added after taking in Eames' wasted form.

"What, and leave you here on your own?" Eames asked, smirking weakly through his exhaustion. "Not bloody likely."

Arthur smiled a shade of his past cheeky grin. "I should have known I could count on you, even if you did try to kill me all those years ago," he drawled, his voice deep and croaky.

Eames sighed and leaned back in his chair, swallowing hard at the vile memory of what he did. "I was twenty one years old, everyone does stupid things when they're that young, even you."

"I was hammered, I didn't have much say in the matter."

"You still drunk yourself to hell's gates and back in the first place!" Eames pointed out, his smirk finally reaching his eyes.

"I suppose," Arthur replied, chuckling to the best of his ability. But he was ever aware of the crushing weight that seemed to lie on his chest. "Dom and Ariadne. How long?" he eventually asked, unable to contain himself and his despair.

Eames was silent for a second, as if contemplating whether to answer truthfully or not. "A week or so after you recruited her."

Arthur's face went even paler, guilt and anger consuming every last untouched part of him. "I kissed her," he said, his breathing quickening.

"Arthur, that wasn't real-"

"No, on the Fischer job. In Level 2, we were waiting for Dom to finish with Mr Charles and I... I sorta tricked her into it," he admitted, staring vacantly at the door of the small room.

Eames couldn't help but smile sadly. "Did she kiss you back?"

The Point Man froze. "Yes," he said after a moment of hesitation, his grimace making way for a sweet, boyish smile as he remembered the one true occasion on which they were one. "Yeah, and she smiled, like she didn't care that I wasn't trying to distract the projections at all."

The forger peered up at his friend from under his lashes, elated to see part of the old Arthur, the little brother he knew and loved. "So, there is a part of her, however small or large it is, that wants you over Dom."

Arthur was quiet, his expression going blank as he mulled it over. "You mean I could get her back?" he mused, his eyes lighting up.

"Well... would you do that to Dom?" Eames asked, pulling an uneasy expression.

Arthur groaned. He had no true answer. "Can it be justified that I love Ariadne so much that I'd hurt my friend to get her?" he questioned, drumming his fingers on his knees as he thought.

Eames mulled over that for a second, uncertain of how to respond. "I don't really know. If you could live with that, then yes, I suppose. It's not really something you need to decide on the spot, though. Just think about it for awhile," he offered, knowing his answer would be pretty much useless to Arthur.

"Yeah, you're right," the Point Man replied. "I guess I just don't know right now."

* * *

The house was quiet, for a change, and, that night, Dom really didn't mind. He was free to sit down and turn on the TV, switching to the day's football game without hesitation.

James and Philippa were in Chicago with their grandma, who'd subsequently moved out after Dom's return to America. And, for now, the quiet was comforting rather than eerie.

Then, the sound of a phone ringing joined the sound of the football commentators speaking. Dom groaned and heaved off of the sofa, trudging wearily to the phone. He picked it up and pressed it to his ear, concentrating hard on being polite to whoever was on the other line. "Hello," he said.

"Is this Mr Dominic Cobb?" came a voice Dom didn't recognise, distinctly American, but regal sounding.

"Who am I speaking with?" Dom asked hurriedly.

"My name is Dr Michael Billings and I work with NASA. Am I speaking with Mr Dominic Cobb?" the man persisted.

"Yes, you are, doctor," Dom answered after a second of hesitation.

"Good. I have a job offer for you-" he began.

"I am no scientist, Dr Billings, I can assure you," Dom cut across, afraid of what might follow.

"I am not in need of a scientist, Mr Cobb, I am in need of inception."

Dom went pale. "How exactly do you know about... that?" he asked, trying to control his breathing.

"Mr Saito may be a powerful man but there's no way he can wipe you from every database in this world, Mr Cobb. You've left a trail," Billings drawled dryly. Dom could almost sense the smirk on his face.

"Well, you're out of luck. I'm retired," Dom snapped and was about to hang up when Billings said something that chilled him to the bone.

"See you in court."

A long silence ensued in which Dom sat down, becoming increasingly dizzy. "What?"

"Mr Cobb, your name may be clear, but your teammates' names are not, and we could almost definitely bring you to court too for association. Mr Thomas Eames, countless cases of theft, countless cases of identity theft, countless cases of extraction, one case of inception, assault, murder, manslaughter, drug abuse, selling drugs, being drunk and disorderly, speeding and drunk driving. Mr Arthur Arevalo, countless cases of extraction, one case of inception, assault, manslaughter, drug abuse, speeding and being drunk and disorderly. Miss Ariadne Moreau, one case of inception. Mr Yusuf Sommers, association with extractors, numerous cases of extraction, one case of inception and selling strong, non prescriptive sleeping drugs. Not to mention, fake names do not fool us for a second. Mr Arevalo is in hospital after falling into a relapse-related coma and your team is constantly visiting. Do you seriously like your chances of escape, Mr Cobb?" Billings rattled off, seeming extremely bemused.

Dom shut his eyes for a second, sighing heavily. "Alright, we'll do it."

_**A/N:** Be warned, the next chapter is quite dark! I hope it lives up to your expectations! As always, please leave a review I love getting them, they make me very happy! And please tell me if there's anything that needs improved upon! S xxxxx_


	8. Seven

**Seven**

"You can't seriously expect him to do this!" Eames snapped, shaking his head in denial.

"For once, I'm with Eames. Arthur's too fragile, Dom!" Ariadne insisted.

"Still here," Arthur butted in, sat upright and looking as serious as a man can look in pyjamas whilst on a hospital bed, doped up on painkillers and his fringe constantly flopping over his eyes. The Point's condition was quickly improving, though, with the nurses suggesting he'd be out in a week. He could walk around freely without getting wheezy and he was starting to pull his wits together. But he hadn't talked to Ariadne directly since the corridor incident.

"The sedative might be too strong for him, Mr Cobb, he might fall back into a coma," Yusuf added.

Dom averted his gaze to his shoes and sighed. "Where else are we going to get a Point Man? We're either successful or we all go to prison, that's what Billings said. And Arthur and Eames are going to be behind bars for a hell of a lot longer than the rest of us, by the way. Besides, we don't have much chance of outrunning them, with Arthur like this," he said wearily.

"Still here!" Arthur repeated, but, yet again, no one took notice.

"Do you think he'll manage?" Ariadne asked Eames, not even glancing at Arthur for fear of him staring back.

"Once again, I'm still here!" Arthur all but yelled, finally getting their attention. He might have been the one in the hospital bed, but he was perfectly capable of deciding his own fate. "God damn it, I'm out for a week and you guys go all over-protective dinosaur mom on me."

Eames disguised a laugh as a cough, reminding himself that Arthur had a lot at risk here. Yusuf had explained to him earlier that Arthur's relapse could have been triggered by the sedative he'd used, which was powerful enough to pose threat to parts of Arthur's brain. The parts that had never fully formed, due to his early exposure to dream sharing, which occurred before his brain was fully mature. He'd explained that the average man's brain was fully grown by the time he was twenty one, rendering Arthur three years underage of the legal dream sharing age for men when he began in their line of work. Once threatened, these parts had shut themselves down as a result and rebooted, throwing Arthur into a coma.

Depending on how effective the reboot was, the sedative could well send Arthur into another relapse.

"I'll do it, if it means keeping us out of jail. I'll manage it, I'm strong," Arthur persisted, his anger giving way to confidence.

Dom leaned back in his chair and examined Arthur with an admiring smile. He always did rebound strongly. "That's very brave of you, Arthur, are you sure?"

Arthur gulped. "Yeah," he said, "Just don't scream at me if I make a mistake this time," he added.

Ariadne jumped at that, remembering Dom's yelling fit on Level 1. It seemed so far away, but, in truth, it had only happened over a week or so ago.

Eames was still icy and unyielding. "This isn't a good idea. That sedative could well be the reason he went into relapse in the first place."

"Tom, they want to lock you up for murder among hundreds of other things. If we don't do this, you're going to be locked up till the day you die," Dom pointed out, causing Eames to shiver.

"I'll work on it, I can assure you," Yusuf answered, looking Eames dead in the eye and giving him a nod.

"I know I can do this," Arthur said confidently, looking straight at Ariadne with a sad smile. "And I'll do it well. I promise."

Ariadne met his gaze cautiously and looked into his sad, angry eyes. She noticed how they were a dull, darker shade of their former bright chocolate brown. The architect wanted desperately to wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be all right, but that was a colossal lie. Things would never be 'alright' for Arthur again. Deep down, they both knew that.

"What's the idea?" Yusuf asked, ignoring the general pain, despair and anger that clogged up the room.

"We have to convince a Brazilian billionaire to donate a colossal amount of money to NASA for them to fund projects," Dom explained, refusing to look at his girlfriend and best friend, who seemed locked in a silent argument beyond his comprehension.

"After the fricking Fischer job, this sounds easy enough," Arthur remarked, turning from Ariadne to Dom in an instant.

Eames nodded slowly, still uncertain as to whether he wanted Arthur on the team or not. Arthur was the best at what he did and Eames had no doubt about it. If they were to use some hastily trained Point Man for the job, they could safely say they'd failed before they begun, which meant jail for all of them, including Arthur. And, even though Eames was usually anything but selfish, the thought of life behind bars had him shaking. "It sure does. What's the game plan so far?"

"He's flying from Rio to DC to meet with Dr Billings at NASA Headquarters and discuss the donation, which, without our help, Dr Billings assumed would go badly. I suggest we set up in Rio and perform inception on the flight, which is roughly ten hours," Dom said.

"Easy enough. As long as none of us gets shot. Do be sure to check about that, darling!" Eames added with a staged chortle, attempting to lighten the mood.

Arthur rolled his eyes sharply, rather pleased to see the old Eames return. "Your wish is my command, Mr Eames," he replied dryly.

"Welcome back, Mr and Mrs Eames!" Ariadne added with a laugh.

The team started laughing and joking, so glad to see the family back together. Well, that's what Dom, Yusuf and Ariadne saw. Eames and Arthur both knew the latter was anything but mended. Ever the quiet one, Arthur looked Ariadne square in the eye and winked, smiling a shade of his former smile. A smile that was sore on the Point Man's face, as it had been absent for so long. But it was a good pain, like the pain of breaking in new shoes, because the duo knew it would pay off in the end. He may not be mended, but he wasn't completely broken, either.

Within a week, Arthur was more or less back to full health, even if he was still very sullen. The one thing Eames was struggling to make progress on was his mindset. The Point Man was still perpetually angry, his mood swings as unpredictable as could be.

Of course, he put on a strong facade so that Cobb would allow him to continue with the mission and Ariadne would forget all about his earlier moodiness. But Eames sensed something deeper. Eames knew Arthur better than the Point's own mother did, which wasn't an incredible feat, as the two had rarely spoken in five years. He feared that Arthur was developing a disorder. He wasn't eating properly and his clothes were becoming increasingly baggy, also he always had a vacant look in his eyes and often muttered to himself. Most predominantly, Eames feared insomnia, like Arthur was afraid to sleep in case the nightmare of relapse repeated itself. Eames noted he was always asleep before Arthur, and, on the occasions that he did wake up, normally because the chair he slept in was horrifically uncomfortable, Arthur was awake too, sat upright and playing with his phone.

One short but horrible encounter was forever playing on Eames' mind, eating away at him, dissolving his conscience. As he thought it over, he was amazed how little more than ten minutes had seen him feel so much different things.

"I'm worried about you, mate," Eames had said with a sigh that night.

"So am I," Arthur replied, picking at his nails in an absent minded fashion, the white glow from his phone gloomily lighting the room.

"Arthur, you need to sleep. You can't avoid it for the rest of your life," the Forger pointed out.

Arthur sighed and put away his phone, meeting the forger's gaze with wide, sleepless eyes. "I'm scared to, Tom," he admitted. "Do you know what it's like, to wake up and realise that twenty years of your life is a lie? To learn that your 'wife' is dating your best friend? To find out your daughter never existed?" he asked quietly, his voice sounding croaky and misused.

Arthur was but a shell of his former self, pretending for the outside world and showing his true colours, or lack thereof, only to Eames, a man he now trusted above all others. Eames could only stare blankly at the Point Man, his chest constricted and his throat tight. "I've never been in love, Arthur. I can't even begin to understand what you feel like," he admitted, his face draining of colour.

"No one does. No one truly understands what people like me feel. They try to, for awhile, they pretend to. They make allowances for our behaviour. Then, they expect us to do the unspeakable. Move on. Forget. Live. But we know we can't. And they stop understanding. We're cast out into the cold, our only comfort is grief. So, I'll hide it. I don't let them know what I feel. I'll flirt and joke and talk, but I won't forget. I never will," Arthur said in a monotone. "I'll never forget the day I married her. I'll never forget how good she feels against me. And, I'll never forget Annie. Let's face it, I'm set up to spend the rest of my days grieving. It's like she died, Tom. It's like my little Annie died..."

It wasn't until then that Eames realised just where Arthur was staring. He was staring at Eames' waistband, which held a well concealed gun, fully loaded and ready to kill. It was a precaution, an old habit for Tom. But to Arthur, it was a way out of the pain he was set to live through for the rest of his life.

"Arthur... I can't do that..." Eames said, his heart racing.

"No, I'll do it," Arthur explained, nodding slowly. "You can say I took it off you whilst you were sleeping. No one has to know, Tom."

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself!" Eames snapped, causing Arthur to jump. "Listen to yourself! You're asking me to murder you, in cold blood! Your friend, your arsehole of a co-worker, your brother! I won't do it! I won't!"

"Just give me the gun! I'll do it! You're hands won't get dirty," Arthur insisted, his voice growing louder.

"No! I won't!" Eames said, blocking out Arthur's every word. "If you do that, you destroy me! If you do it... I'll follow you! I'll shoot myself! Do you really want that on your shoulders, you selfish bastard?!"

Arthur went pale and silent as he looked Eames dead in the eye. He could tell there was no lie in his words, that Eames truly did love him that much. The Point Man stuttered for a second, unable to think clearly.

"Do it, then!" Eames said, taking the gun from his band and holding it out, hardly audible due to the tightness of his throat. He was choking under the pain and despair of the Point Man's words and, as he looked at the killing machine in his hand, he knew in his heart that if Arthur did this, and if Arthur did kill himself, he would follow without hesitation.

The men were in deadlock, their ability to love anchoring them to this earth, the gun between them playing with their minds. Arthur counted the movements in his head. Reach out, press to head, pull trigger. In three movements, he could end his pain and kill his best friend in the doing. In three movements, he could escape and murder. Three movements could kill two people. Too easy. Too cowardly.

That's when it hit home in the younger man's mind. Suicide was easy, life was hard.

And since when did Arthur choose easy?

In swift movements, he grabbed the gun and threw it out the open window, all without looking away from Eames. "Easy is never right."

Relief washed over Eames in a tsunami like wave. "And right is never easy."

_**A/N:**__ I hope you enjoyed! I'm back to school tomorrow, so don't expect the regular updates I've been doing recently! As always, if you could leave a review, that would be lovely! And if there's anything I could work on, please don't hesitate to tell me. S xxxxx_


	9. Eight

**Eight**

"How are you doing today?" Ariadne asked as the duo entered the airport, hand in hand.

"On the mend, you?" Arthur replied with a staged smile. His mind was racing, coming up with all sorts of insane ideas. The team had created a plan on as to how they associated in the public eye so that anyone who wanted them dead couldn't draw links. Arthur and Ariadne were 'newlyweds', much to Arthur's annoyance. Rio de Janeiro was to be their 'honeymoon'. _Some honeymoon this'll be _he'd grumbled to himself upon hearing the plan.

It was Eames' idea, designed to convince the team everything was back to normal regarding Arthur. But, one could always count on Eames to lie. And, boy, did he tell a great big lie here. In truth, Eames feared for Arthur's sanity. He'd spent the past weekend baby-proofing Arthur's flat and had confiscated anything that could be used to harm himself. Arthur's apartment was knife-less, gun-less and as safe as a kid's nursery.

The suicidal thoughts were mere whispers in the Point Man's head now. He reasoned with himself every night, his repeated mantra was that right was never easy and easy was never right. For now, it was working. Eames was spying a vast improvement in his behaviour. He was sleeping better, eating better and was gaining weight at a healthy pace.

"Just dandy," Ariadne replied, smiling sweetly, causing Arthur's head to spin. 'Just dandy'... he said that not so long ago to 'Ariadne'.

Arthur pulled himself back to reality sharply. His head was always in the clouds and Eames often remarked on how he never heard him when he asked questions. They arrived at the queue for the Rio check in desk and they were forced to act like newlyweds did, kissing gently, fondling the other's hands, saying cute things, all of which would have been absolutely fine with the Point Man if he couldn't feel Dominic Cobb's eyes burning into the back of his head like lasers.

In truth, Dom was pissed. He was playing the role of the travelling oil-rig worker and, as he watched the slick, smooth talking Point Man running his hands all over his girlfriend he truly wanted to punch the slimy little git. Dom had it in his head that Arthur was enjoying this to no end and that he put Eames up to suggesting it in the first place. To put it the short way, he was jealous. Incredibly so.

Eames and Yusuf stood close to the front of queue, acting at business partners going on some extravagant venture. Eames hoped his backward glances at Arthur weren't too obvious, but he couldn't resist. Under his elation at seeing Arthur with a smile on his face, whether it was fake or not, lay constant fear. He feared that everything that could go wrong would and that, at some point, Arthur's grasp on sanity or life itself would slip and he'd be plunged back into the torment Eames so often saw in his eyes.

Arthur's predicament and state of mind were messy and uncertain, to put it simply.

Once they were through security, Arthur and Ariadne went to a cafe to get a coffee and wait for their gate call. In the small but busy cafe, Arthur spotted Eames chatting to Yusuf at the other side of the room. The general noise of the place gave the 'newlyweds' good cover to talk about stuff they actually cared about.

"Your boyfriend burned holes in the back of my head back there," Arthur said with a cheeky smile as he rubbed the back of his head, careful not to mess up his hair.

Ariadne grinned and supped at her coffee. "Probably because his girlfriend was making out with his best friend," she pointed out with a twinkle in her eyes that really set their lovely colour alight.

"Is that not allowed when I'm pretending to be your husband?" he questioned, smirking arrogantly. A small part of the old Arthur was shining through.

"No, it is, I just don't think he appreciates us getting so into it, especially after... what happened," she said slowly with a sympathetic smile.

"He thinks I need controlling? That's flattering," Arthur said wearily, rolling his eyes.

"In his defence, Arthur, people are known to be unstable after experiencing relapse," Ariadne pointed out as politely as she could.

Arthur's brow furrowed, his expression going sour. "Oh, so you're siding with the possessive boyfriend who's calling me crazy behind my back?" he asked in disbelief, his happy demeanour fast deteriorating to expose how he truly felt under the facade.

Ariadne's eyes narrowed and Arthur knew in an instant he'd overstepped the mark. "He is not possessive, he's concerned, for me and for you! Stop being so god damned ungrateful, you're like a little kid!" she snapped, grimacing at Arthur.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so naive, Ariadne. He's an extractor, for god's sake! He's manipulative, controlling and he can't stand losing, he manipulates for a living. Do you even realise how selfish he is? He led us into inception without even telling us about the risks, all to get back to his kids! He put us in jeopardy because it suited his priorities! " he replied sharply.

"What's wrong with you these days? You'll rip your best friend to shreds to get a girl?" she said, laughing in disbelief. "I like the real Arthur better, the one that's nice and kind and charming."

"Maybe you don't realise but I woke up one morning to find my daughter was nonexistent and you didn't give a damn about me!" he retorted, whole heartedly glaring at her.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to be an asshole!" Ariadne quipped disgustedly.

"Yeah, well, nice guys finish last. You should know, you're the dirty bastard's rebound!" he said icily.

She brought her hand across his face sharply and left, her half drunken coffee lying forgotten on the table. For a moment, Arthur was still, gently rubbing the slap mark that was undoubtedly printed onto his cheek. Then, he looked up and saw everyone was quiet and staring. "What are you looking at?" he snapped and left, going straight for the men's bathroom.

As he stood over a sink, splashing cold water on his face, he found himself wondering why on earth he said all those things. He'd just raised hellfire within the team. Ariadne would go crying to Dom and, in the end, Arthur would have a black eye.

"Arty just got bitch slapped!" Eames said in a sing song voice as he pranced into the men's room.

"I'm not in the mood," Arthur pointed out sourly.

"Doesn't mean I'm not," Eames replied and patted Arthur on the back. "Don't worry, mate, takes awhile to get back into the swing of things!"

"Yup, well, I just benched myself for the whole season," Arthur said with a sigh.

Eames snorted. "You going to be okay, buddy?" he asked with a kindly smile.

"Yeah. Maybe I can salvage something... or at least avoid being beat up by Dom," Arthur told him.

It took awhile to calm down and, by this point, Arthur was sure Ariadne had already told Dom what he'd said. Nevertheless, he went looking for her, a heavy sense of guilt setting in. He didn't know why he said all those things, he guessed that he was just weak and that Ariadne's obvious adoration of Dom made him extremely jealous. That was one of the many things he hated about himself, his inability to keep his mouth shut when it mattered.

Ariadne was sat on the edge of a fountain, chewing on her fingernails and trying to keep calm. She didn't understand why Arthur would say all those horrible things but, as she thought them through, every one of his comments rung with some truth, even if they were greatly exaggerated. She reminded herself that everyone had flaws and today both men's flaws had become very apparent to her. It came as no surprise when Arthur sat down next to her and started apologising profusely.

"Ariadne, I didn't mean any of it. I'm so sorry," he gushed, looking down at her chewed fingernails as he felt too guilty to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry too. That was out of line. I shouldn't have slapped you. Are you okay?" she asked.

Arthur chuckled softly. "Yeah, not the first time I've been bitch slapped, to be honest. I really don't know when to shut up," he explained, softly rubbing the mark on his cheek.

Ariadne glanced at the faint pink patch on his skin and winced. "Damn it, I'm so sorry, Arthur!" she said, running a hand through her hair in a bout of anxiety.

"Don't be, I've had worse!" he pointed out. "You don't even want to know the amount of times I've been shot."

"You're right... I don't!" she answered with a childish giggle.

"I really am sorry, Ariadne. Maybe we can forget that whole conversation happened?" Arthur offered, rubbing the back of his neck so that Ariadne wouldn't realise his hands were quivering.

He turned to look at her properly and Ariadne saw the worry and pain and regret in his soft, childlike eyes, immediately feeling ready to melt into his arms. She resisted the temptation, though, for she knew that if she was to truly make him understand what was going on inside her head, she had to stop offering him distractions.

"I want you to know that this isn't easy for me. Obviously, it's harder on you and it would be horrible of me to try to say otherwise, but I'm struggling too. I will forgive you, Arthur, but don't think every time you slip up you can just start grovelling and I'll forget what you said, okay?" she told him, her heart heaving in her chest.

Arthur nodded solemnly. "Can I kiss you? It'd help keep up the cover," he pointed out, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

"No," she replied firmly, "I think our cover's blown, anyway."

Arthur chortled. "Can I at least hug you? As friends?"

Ariadne considered this for a second, wanting to give in with all her might. He'd turned the full power of his beautiful eyes on her and her stubborn cover was fast dissolving. "Oh, come here, you big wuss!" she said and wrapped her arms around him.

He returned her hug, burying himself in her sweet smelling hair, feeling at home in her comforting arms. For the first time in weeks, Arthur was truly and completely on the mend.

_**A/N:**__ I don't know about you, but I think Arthur deserved that slap! Haha! As always, if you would be kind enough to leave a review, it truly makes my day! S xxxxx__He_


	10. Nine

**Nine**

"So, how do we break this idea down for it to work?" Arthur asked one evening in their selected warehouse. He'd comfortably settled back into the rhythm of being a Point Man and was working as hard as ever.

Eames mulled over this for a second and stood up, uncapping a whiteboard pen and staring at the nearly blank board, his mind ticking audibly. "Emotionally invest him in the dust devils of Mars?"

Arthur chuckled a humourless chuckle. "Very amusing, Mr Eames."

"I've missed being belittled by you, darling," Eames added with an eye roll.

"Seriously, guys, stop fooling around," Cobb reprimanded, scribbling on his note pad like crazy.

"Whatever you say, Dom," Arthur said dryly, standing and gesturing to Eames to throw him the pen. He caught it neatly and sauntered up to the board, waiting for Eames to sit down before he started brainstorming. "Perhaps it would be best to stick with the emotional side of things, seeing how that worked so well on the Fischer job."

"Maybe there's a scientist working alongside Dr Billings that he's desperate to impress?" Ariadne suggested, scratching her head idly.

"That could work," Eames replied, scribbling it down on his pad.

Arthur nodded and wrote on the board, smiling sweetly at Ariadne who returned his gesture. Dom visibly squirmed and Arthur had to hold back a snigger. "I think we should run with that. I've done a little research and Mr Medrar has no existing relationships."

"Not to mention the donation would be very charitable if it was to impress a woman!" Eames added with his shark's grin.

"Wouldn't you know?" Arthur quipped, earning a few laughs as he dodged the pencil Eames threw at his head.

The plan slowly started to form before their eyes and within a few days, the team was ready. Eames had been in Washington DC for a day or two, finding an endearing female scientist and studying her so he could impersonate her and win Medrar's affections. Nearly everything was in place. All that had to be done now was the teaching of the layouts to the dreamers, a task Ariadne had not really been looking forward to.

Mostly because it meant spending hours of the night in a small, otherwise deserted room with a man who created emotional turmoil for her every time he did so much as glance at her.

Naturally, she put it off for as long as possible, explaining to Dom that she'd start teaching the dreamers the levels after all the other work was done so that it was fresh in their minds for the job. They were using a similar pattern as before, Yusuf being the Level 1 dreamer and dreaming up a warm, hopefully rain free city, Arthur being Level 2 and dreaming up an office building and Eames being the Level 3 dreamer, this time dreaming up a slightly more practical country club with expansive golf greens, lined by a paradoxical mountain range.

When she got into the warehouse that morning, she was almost immediately confronted by Dom. "Hey, Ari," he said with a wide smile, brushing a few stray hairs from her pretty face.

"Hi, Dom," she greeted, smiling back.

"So, today you're teaching layouts, right?" he asked, an odd air of anxiety surrounding him. He seemed jittery and nervous, like he was going onstage to collect some award.

Ariadne nodded, glancing at the door which led to her office. It contained her drawing board and sketch pads with all her models and blueprints. The room in which she'd be teaching the dreamers.

"Is everything alright? In place?" he questioned, causing Ariadne's brow to furrow with confusion.

"Dom, what are you getting at?" she asked with a sigh. She knew he had confidence in her to be prepared in time and she wanted to know why he was so avidly asking questions.

"I just want to know you're ready. This is an important part of the job!" he pointed out, nodding softly.

She rolled her eyes, finally tagging on to his odd behaviour. "Is this about Arthur?" she snapped, causing him to go silent. The extractor scratched his forehead, sighing heavily.

"I'm just worried about him, he seems a little on edge," he began, his hands flapping around at his sides.

"I think we both know you have every confidence in his abilities, even if he is pretty shaken right now," Ariadne cut across him.

"I suppose you are the one spending a lot of time with him. You'd know better," he said, his eyebrows going up.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, you've spent a _lot _of time with him recently."

"Dominic Cobb, are you... jealous of Arthur?" she asked, her eyes going wide.

"I didn't say that," he snapped.

"You implied it!" Ariadne added, rolling her eyes. "You're both just overgrown preschoolers, you know that? He was right about you," she snapped and turned to go to her office.

"What did Arthur say about me?" Dom asked sharply, catching Ariadne by the wrist.

It was Ariadne's turn to go silent as she yanked her arm from Dom's grasp.

"What did he say?" Dom insisted, his eyes going dark.

She stayed silent.

Then, Dom's mouth crushed down on hers as he pulled her close. She struggled for a second, shoving against him, but he was too strong.

Ariadne was so overcome by confusion that she didn't hear the warehouse door rattling open and then closing. So, it wasn't until Dom pulled away and she peered around him did she understand.

Arthur stood there, jaw slack, eyes wide and angry. He was paler than ever, his eyes darting between the two like he was trying to work out who he hated more. Then, he swallowed hard and averted his gaze to his shoes before muttering an apology and walking to his office.

"Who do you think you are?" Ariadne demanded, glaring up at her sorry excuse of a boyfriend. "How dare you use me to make Arthur mad! The man was in relapse for Christ's sake!"

Then, she stormed off into her office, determined she'd calm down before Yusuf came in to start the working day.

* * *

"Would you quit that?" Ariadne snapped, brushing crumbs off of her cardigan as she turned on her heel to face the irritating Forger.

"What?" Eames asked through a mouthful of bread.

"Throwing food at me!" was her answer, gesturing grouchily at the semi circle of crumbs that lay on the floor.

"That wasn't me!" he said, despite them being the only two in the room.

Ariadne just groaned and turned back to her model, returning to explaining the dream layout.

Eames just grinned and sat on the table behind her, tearing another chunk of bread off of her discarded sandwich and throwing it at her hair.

Ariadne felt it pelt off her back and repressed the urge to stuff it down his throat. "It's a wonder someone hasn't killed you by now."

"Believe me, I've tried," came Arthur's voice as the door opened.

"Not hard enough, darling!" Eames said, getting down from his perch and kissing Ariadne on the cheek before winking at Arthur and sauntering out.

"So annoying," Ariadne muttered.

"Hey, I was the one that was left to rot with him in a hospital for a week. Thanks for that, by the way," he pointed out, grinning widely as he shut the door behind him and stepped forward to have a look at the layout.

"I feel for you, Arthur, I really do!" she said with a giggle. "Ready to start?"

"Yeah, this looks good!" he said, grazing his fingers over blueprints and drawings of a massive office building.

Although she was getting tired and the very sight of Arthur made her stomach flip, Ariadne launched into a lecture regarding her plans, trying to ignore just who she was talking to. She was certain he was trying to make her nervous, always brushing against her, complimenting her genius and making eye contact with her as often as possible.

In all honesty, Arthur was enjoying making her stutter and blush. When he got too close, she became tongue tied. When he said he liked something she'd giggle nervously and sway a little, as if to keep calm. When she looked at him, he'd make sure he was looking back, just to make her squirm. He wasn't sadistic or sick but he genuinely loved the effect he had on her. It was the effect she had on him, but he'd learned long ago to mask his emotions if need be.

"Any level beyond three and seven is nonexistent. Those buttons on the elevator don't work, the stairwells are composed of paradoxes after that. No windows... anywhere," she said, pointing to specific points of her drawings in turn.

"I think I've got it," he told her, allowing the back of his hand to brush against hers.

She jumped violently and, upon realising how odd she was acting, quickly apologised. "Sorry, I'm just... on edge."

"I understand. Today must have been tough," he said, holding back a smirk.

"You have no idea," she muttered, picking absently at her nails.

"Eames is a handful... not to mention Dom," he added slowly, inclining his head towards her.

Ariadne blinked, turning slightly to meet his gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he was really... rough with you, this morning," he replied, his eyes glittering in the dimly lit room.

"Arthur-" she began and found she didn't know what to say.

"Ariadne, I would _never _touch you like that," he insisted, drawing closer and caressing her face with his fingertips so lightly it was almost ticklish.

The architect was silent as she drew comparisons in her head. Both men were so temperamental, so inconsistent. But, as Arthur's gentle touch compared with Dom's strong, demanding grasp, she found herself leaning towards the Point Man, almost desperate. "I... I just don't know."

And then, hoping he could help her decide, Arthur closed the small gap between them and gently pressed his lips to hers, his hands stroking her waist.

Ariadne gasped as his fingers left blazing trails on her skin. Even through her t-shirt and her cardigan, Arthur was burning her, very similar to the tingling sensation of sunburn. She met his lips with great urgency, feeling her heart battering against her rib cage as she fought to control herself.

_What about Dom? _she asked herself. _What about your boyfriend?_ She broke away from Arthur, slightly breathless as she thought. He stayed close, his eyes closed, his forehead pressed to hers, his breathing quick and irregular. His sweet, minty breath intoxicated her, making it impossible for her to think clearly and rationally. "I can't do this..." she murmured, barely audible.

"He doesn't need to know until you want him to, Ari. I love you and I want you, but the decision is yours," he whispered.

His only answer was the feel of her lips on his once more. But, for Arthur, that was more than adequate.

**_A/N:_**_ So... please leave me a review telling me what you think! Who are you rooting for, Dom or Arthur? And if you have anything you think I could improve on, please don't hesitate to tell me! S xxxxx_


	11. Ten

**Ten**

"Look, Carnival is coming up, the bars are practically on permanent happy hour, why the bloody hell wouldn't we go out?" was the last thing Arthur remembered of the previous night.

He'd left Ariadne's office with a last fleeting kiss and had been ambushed on his way to his rental car by Eames, who else? After a long argument, Arthur had given in and... blank. He'd drunk so much that night that even the sober parts were a blackout.

The great thing was, the pounding in his head and the sting on his abdomen was enough to blotch out the crushing weight of his guilt and the general depression the last few weeks had given him.

For Eames, this was pretty much mission accomplished. They weren't dead and Arthur wasn't moping, just groaning. It had been his intention to take Arthur's mind off of things, but the night got a little worse than he imagined and the last thing he remembered was entering a tattoo parlour with his drunken best friend. That explained the raw pain he felt in the small of his back, but he was too hung over to check exactly what it was.

So, when Arthur pulled up to the warehouse the next morning with shades disguising his blood shot eyes, he pretty much got hell from Dom. He'd wandered in, white t-shirt already sticking to him in the heat of their location and Dom had pulled him to the side.

"What's with the shades? You're inside," he pointed out quietly, already suspecting Eames was behind it.

"Jesus, why are you shouting? You're making my head pound," Arthur said, his jaw slack and his eyebrows furrowed.

Dom yanked his sunglasses from his face and did the most dramatic eye roll of the century when he confirmed Arthur had a hangover that registered as Eames-style on the scale. "Tom's rubbing off on you, huh?"

"I'll say," Arthur replied, rubbing his eyes wearily and trying not to think of the burning pain on his chest. "Where is the stupid bastard?"

As if to answer, a car rolled up outside and Eames stepped out, pale, sunken eyes and ruffled hair. "What... an... asshole," Arthur muttered and wandered off for a coffee.

As Eames trudged over the gravel to the warehouse, he tried to wake himself up. He pulled his crumpled black t-shirt straight and tried to flatten his hair, but when his hand met his head, he found it was inches shorter than it used to be. "Shit..." he muttered. "A haircut _and _a tattoo?"

As he pulled the warehouse door closed behind him, wincing at its clattering sound, he saw Dom metres away, glaring at him. "Loving the new hair, Tom."

"You bloody better, you would not believe what I went through last night to get it," he replied with a half-hearted grin, blinking rapidly in the horrible light.

"I believe you got Arthur and yourself drunk when you were designated to be working the next morning," Dom said, wearily shaking his head.

Eames sighed, trying to blotch out Dom and his bloody whining. Did the man even know _how _to have fun, any more? And why was Arthur's predicament always his fault? "I am responsible for myself and myself only. Stop pawning Arthur's behaviour off on me," was Eames' reply.

"Yeah, I can't possibly expect you to take responsibility for a depressed twenty-three year old," Dom snapped sarcastically.

"Oh, just shut up, Dom! You're not my freaking mum!" Eames retorted and sauntered off to the kitchen.

* * *

"Do you want to just go into the dream today? I mean, the headache will hurt less down there," Ariadne offered with a grin, poking Arthur between the ribs.

She caught the point that had hurt all day, causing Arthur to wince sharply. He did his best to contain himself and downplayed it, hoping she wouldn't investigate. Even he didn't know what was wrong, but his head hurt so much he quite frankly didn't care. "Yeah, let's just-"

"Arthur, what's wrong?" Ariadne asked, looking very concerned.

"Heck, I don't know. It's been bothering me all day," he replied, leaning back against one of the tables.

Very gently, Ariadne pulled up Arthur's t-shirt, trying not to stare too much at his muscular body, marred with scars and bullet wounds from his years as an outlaw. She gasped when she came across the sore point. "Arthur... that's..." and she stopped there, becoming speechless.

The Point Man jumped, yanking up his t-shirt to see. For a second, he was horrified that maybe he had a stupid unicorn tattoo or something. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw, a small smile crossing his lips. A bright die and bishop, side by side, above two intertwined, calligraphic 'A's. "That's not too bad," he muttered.

"You didn't know you had a tattoo of our totems and initials?" she asked in disbelief, giggling at his surprise.

"I was drunk!" he pointed out with a smile.

"So, you don't like it?" she asked cautiously, gazing up at him with her big, round eyes.

He kissed her softly. "I love it," he replied.

With that, Ariadne pulled his t-shirt back down, covering the pink, puckered skin that surrounded the tattoo. "Come on, we'd better get some work done!"

Arthur groaned, preferring to just enjoy this beautiful woman than work. But, Ariadne tugged him out of the office and they went to Yusuf's room, which had five lawn chairs circled around a small table. She fetched the PASIV from the closet and set it down on the table, pulling two cables from it and handing one to Arthur. "Could you put us under, Yusuf?" she asked.

Yusuf looked up from his papers and chemicals, as if just realising they were there, and nodded. "Of course," he said, "How long?".

"Five minutes should do the trick," she replied with a smile.

Arthur lay back on one of the lawn chairs and punctured his scabby right wrist with the PASIV's needle, strapping it on and keeping it secure. The familiar pinch of the needle was almost comforting and normal through the pounding in his head as he leaned back and shut his eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was in a much cooler environment than the warehouse in Brazil. As his brown eyes fluttered open, he noted the incredibly weak ache in his forehead. "Dreams work miracles," he muttered as he took in his environment. He was sat behind a computer that had gone to its screensaver. The computer looked like it had seen its best days long ago, as did the rest of the dull, grey room. There was only one other inhabitant, Ariadne, who sat behind her own desk with her own elderly computer. "Hey," he said with a boyish smile, noticing there was no longer a pain in his abdomen.

Ariadne just giggled and stood up, pulling her favourite red jacket tighter around her. She'd missed wearing it in Rio's stifling heat. "Want to have a look around?"

Arthur nodded and together, they began touring the office building, checking the paradoxes were in order and every fine detail was in place. Ariadne was impressed that he'd kept with the boring, strict look of the office building she had envisaged. After all, this was the type of building Medrar was used to, according to Eames. He might catch on if he appeared in a building customised to suit Arthur's extravagant tastes.

As for Arthur's attire, he was back to stiff-collared shirts, handsome waistcoats and gelled back hair. In all honesty, Ariadne missed seeing him in skin tight white t-shirts and jeans with a lot of his dark hair cut off, but she was glad to see the real Arthur back, in his sharp, smart suits.

"This is really good!" she said, gesturing around at his practically flawless interpretation of her drawings. "But what else should I expect from a Point Man?"

"Always expect nothing less than the best from me, Ariadne," he instructed, his shrewd, cocky smile lighting up his eyes.

Ariadne could only gaze in awe at his perfect recollection. It was amazing, really, to think he'd spent the whole of last night drinking and he could still produce this.

They toured Arthur's dream until Ariadne was satisfied, ending their walk around back where they started, in their office. Once inside, Arthur inspected his tattoo once more, still unable to believe he had it. It was beautiful, as was the woman it was for, and Arthur found himself thinking he was the luckiest man in the world. "I really do have it all, don't I?"

Ariadne looked to him, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I have my dream job, quite literally, I have an amazing sort-of brother standing in for my fuck-up of a real one, I can afford all of life's little pleasures and the most beautiful woman in the world has kissed me," he answered, perching himself on the corner of his desk and re-buttoning his shirt.

Ariadne went bright red and took one of his spindly hands in her own, small and childlike. "Who is this woman you speak of? You're making me jealous!"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he asked and gently took her into his arms, the weight of her body against his was such a comforting feel. He would trade his twenty years with his fake Ariadne just to have this moment with her. "That reminds me, why architecture?"

Ariadne smiled up at him, losing herself in his smouldering eyes. "Every building out there is _someone's _dream that has become a reality, you know? Every building has a story behind it. When was it designed? When did it become more than paper and graphite? When did it become _real?"_

It only took Arthur a second to decide he loved the real Ariadne's answer so much more than his Ariadne's. "She was just a shade of you, the Ariadne I made for myself. She wasn't nearly so perfect, yet so imperfect. I think I've done it, Ari, I think I've let her die."

A single tear rolled down Ariadne's cheek as she kissed him. Arthur's words brought Dom to her mind, as they were scarily similar to what Dom said to Mal's shade, the time his projections of her stopped.

But as Arthur pulled her close, his lips moving with hers, his arms coiling around her waist, she lost all sense of guilt. All that mattered to her right now was Arthur. Ever so carefully, she opened his shirt and broke away from him, just to marvel at the tattoo on his sculpted chest. "It's beautiful," she whispered, watching as her tear fell from her cheek and rolled down his chest.

"So are you, Ariadne," Arthur replied and gently resumed their kiss, his tongue grazing over her teeth.

Ariadne all but leapt from his arms as the door opened. For a second, she feared projections, ready to kill. But the truth scared her so much more. Dom.

Arthur went rigid, his jaw going slack and his eyes going wide as Dom's face turned a dangerous shade of red. The extractor was frozen, his eyes darting between Ariadne, Arthur and the tattoo on his chest, practically screaming betrayal.

"Dom-" Arthur said and found he couldn't possibly say anything more.

Dom seemed to just stand for a second, looking over his girl, his Point Man and the tattoo. He felt physically sick and the dam holding back his fury was fast collapsing. "What have you got to say, Arthur? That you're sorry? And that it's all a huge misunderstanding? Or can we skip to the part where I beat you up?" he asked quietly and cruelly.

Arthur closed his eyes, bracing himself for what would follow. There was the sound of quick footsteps, a cry from Ariadne and a sharp blow to Arthur' stomach had him falling from the desk to his knees. Dom commanded him to get up and he did as he was told. One to the eye and he cried out. Ariadne was screaming at Dom to stop, telling Arthur to fight back, but Arthur ignored her. He deserved it, after all, even if he didn't regret it.

Arthur's eyes flickered open, his vision blurry and bloody. He watched in horror as Ariadne ran at Dom and he pushed her to the floor. White hot rage filled him. "Don't touch her."

Dom shoved him back into the wall, pinning him there. "I should tell you the same thing, but it's too fucking late! How do you feel, Arthur? How do you feel?! How does messing around with your best friend's girl feel? Pretty damn good, obviously, 'cause you didn't fucking think about me!"

"Dom, calm down!" Arthur yelled as the music started to break through, fast and rumbling.

The extractor jammed his elbow into Arthur's windpipe, causing him to wheeze even more. "Don't tell me to calm down, you are screwing my girlfriend behind my back, you fucking moron! You have a tattoo! A tattoo with that bitch's totem!"

Then, they timed out, waking up with a start.

Arthur was awake and alert, as angry as could be. "You're dead! How dare you call her a bitch!" he screamed, getting the needle out of his arm and yanking Dom from his deck chair. Yusuf looked up, stunned, unable to do anything.

With a god awful thwack, Arthur's fist slammed into Dom's face. Dom stumbled back, crying out in pain as blood started running from his nose. The Point Man was younger, faster, stronger, physically superior, not to mention cunning. Dom knew he wouldn't win, but he would sure as hell go down with a fight.

"What the hell's going on?" Eames demanded, appearing at the doorway.

"Why don't you ask your buddy? He's been fucking my girlfriend, after all!" Dom hollered back.

Eames eyes went wide, glaring at Arthur. The Point Man was distracted as he took in the look of disappointment on Eames' face. He was jolted awake when Dom's hand collided with Arthur's nose. As Arthur was blinded by pain, he felt Dom's kick to his crotch and he doubled over, screaming out. "Dom, stop it, for fuck's sake! Stop it! Maybe we should just leave it for today! Give us a chance to clear our heads, yeah?" Eames cried, pretty much ripping his hair out.

"Gladly!" Dom snapped, grabbing up his car keys and storming out.

Yusuf all but ran out, leaving Ariadne standing there, glancing between the furious brothers. "You too!" Eames said, pointing at the door. "I want to have a little word with him."

Ariadne threw Arthur a worried glance but, in the end, buckled under Eames' ferocious glare. "Goodbye," she muttered, leaving without another word.

Now, Arthur was left to face Tom, who radiated disappointment more than anything.

_**A/N:** I'll be honest, that was great fun to write! I want to say, if I'm ever updating too fast for you to keep up, just shout! It's getting trickier to write a new chapter everyday anyway, with me being back at school. Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think via the review button! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Oh, and what do you think of Arthur's tattoo?_


	12. Eleven

**Eleven**

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Was the first thing Eames said.

Arthur just glared back, blood dripping slowly from his nose and onto his white t-shirt. He didn't seem to notice, too focused on his disappointed elder.

"Can you hear me, you idiot?! Who the bloody hell do you think you are?" Eames snapped, trying to calm himself down.

"You said to me if I could justify this to myself, I was more than welcome," Arthur pointed out, ruffling his short hair anxiously.

"Not when our freedom is at risk! We could both be banged up for life and you're busy ripping us apart!" Eames replied, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.

"I'm sorry..." Arthur muttered.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, you arsehole," The Forger quipped. "I know things have been hard on you, recently, but you still have the ability to think! Imagine if Dom walked in on you two getting cosy whilst we were on the job? He would have flipped and we'd have been caught. Now, I doubt he'll talk to either of you, which is pretty bad considering inception is a _team_ effort."

"I know... I just wasn't thinking! I'm sorry, Tom. Please, I don't know what to do!" The Point Man said anxiously.

"Fix this. I don't care how, just do it! The job is tomorrow and if we can't pull this thing back on track, we're screwed," the older man hollered back and walked out, leaving Arthur sitting on the lawn chair, his head nestled in his hands.

Eames was fuming. Not only because Arthur had ripped the team apart single handed, but because the Point Man seemed incapable of judgement when he was emotionally invested. Of course, everyone was flawed, but it seemed that everyone but Arthur was able to cover their flaws and learn. Whereas the young man made the same mistakes over and over again. The matter of Fischer's subconscious security and Arthur's failure to discover it was down to him pretty much obsessing over Ariadne. The Forger was constantly spotting his brother's errors on that job, errors he wouldn't have otherwise made if there hadn't been a pretty girl distracting him. Dom had managed just fine and he was dating her at the time!

As Eames left, Arthur could have kicked himself. He knew he'd seriously and deeply messed up if even Tom couldn't stand the sight of him. But was it really so wrong to love Ariadne? Right was never easy, after all.

Right now, he just needed to take his mind off of his messed up excuse of a life.

* * *

An hour or so later, he was in the heart of Rio, at a bar, his bloody t-shirt discarded and replaced. Just one beer, he'd told himself. As he sat in a barstool, drowning out the world and sipping his drink, a woman took the seat next to him and ordered a jack and coke. Arthur jumped and looked up, hoping it was Ariadne. But it wasn't. The woman was stunning, just not the woman he wanted. She seemed to notice a little dried blood on the side of Arthur's nose and gestured to it. "Tough day at the office?" she asked with a strong twang that he couldn't quite place.

"You have no idea," he replied with a weary smirk and wiped it away.

She laughed a musical laugh as her own drink arrived. As she paused to drink, Arthur took the chance to study her with the scrutiny of a point man. Medium height, slender but strong, pale, sharp blue eyes and glossy burgundy hair that fell to her shoulders in waves. She was dressed in a black vest top and cut off denim shorts and her skin was greased with suntan lotion. Wise, really. Her pale, freckly skin was probably the type that burned at mere exposure to UV. One thing that Arthur did notice that reminded him of Ari was her abnormally large eyes. They may be opposite in colour and comparatively cold, but they were big and sparkling.

"Do you normally look at girls like that?" she asked, making Arthur blink and look away rapidly.

"Sorry, you just remind me of my girl," he replied, shaking his head.

"It's alright!" she replied with a chuckle, taking a sip of her drink before glancing at Arthur's lean form. "So, I guess if you've got a girl, you won't be buying me a drink?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking back to her to see she was grinning. "I was joking, mate!" she insisted.

Arthur cracked a smile and took another sip of his beer. " Where are you from? You sound Irish."

"Well, Northern Ireland. You?" she asked kindly, taking a gulp from her jack and coke.

"New Jersey. I lived in London for awhile, actually, then I moved to LA," he explained.

Her eyebrows went up as she thought this over. A New Jersey boy in London struck her as odd. "What brought you to London? She asked.

Arthur averted his gaze to his sneakers, images of Eames flashing through his mind, furious and disappointed. "Well, I moved there with my parents when I was sixteen. And I met a really good friend there," he answered with a sigh.

"Well, he must be a good friend if you're moping over him. Want to tell me what happened?" she asked with a sweet smile, hoping he didn't think of her as intrusive.

Arthur peered up at her from under his lashes, shaking his head softly. He returned her warm smile, glad at least someone wasn't disappointed in him.

"Well, mate, whatever the bloody hell you've done, I'm sure he'll forgive you," she assured him, draining her glass and getting up to go. "I'd better skate. Nice meeting you."

"Wait, who are you?" Arthur asked quickly, smiling at how much the girl and Tom sounded alike. Not in accents, but in mannerisms.

"Might I ask you the same question?" she seconded.

Arthur stood and offered her his hand, a kind smile lighting up his eyes. "Arthur," he told her.

"Bridie," she replied.

And then she was gone, leaving Arthur with a smile on his face, a feat that could only be achieved by a small fraction of people at that time.

* * *

"So, we all know some stuff went down yesterday that we all regret, yeah?" Eames said the next morning, ruffling his hair uneasily. He stood by the whiteboard, looking down on his team like a kindergarten teacher on an unruly class. "Can we just agree to put it behind us until tomorrow? Our flight is in three hours and if we mess this up... we're all screwed."

Arthur nodded solemnly, feeling sick at the scent of the makeup that concealed the bruises on his face. He hadn't risked a glance at Ariadne or Dom, who's nose was horribly crooked. _Did I seriously punch him that hard? _he thought, his stomach churning.

"Good. I really don't fancy a life in jail," Eames commented sourly. "Are we ready?"

Nods followed. "I wouldn't mind one last kick if that's all I'm going to get in before tomorrow," Dom remarked.

"I'd gladly hospitalise your sorry ass right now if I didn't need you," Arthur retorted.

"Yeah, 'cause you really have cause to be angry, don't you?" Dom quipped sarcastically.

"When you call Ari a bitch, I do!" Arthur snapped.

"Shut the hell up, both of you!" Ariadne hollered over both men, rubbing her forehead angrily.

Eames bit back a smirk, deciding that now was not the time to make the horrid gags that were forming in his awful mind. "We're sticking with the same covers, whether Dom likes it or not," he told them evenly, refraining from laughing as he came up with something particularly horrible.

Dom visibly tensed. "Fine, I don't give a shit!" he snapped, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Eames seemed to snap, his extraordinary patience leaving him in a second as he took in his hateful remnants of a team. His humorous, if slightly sick mind seemed to go into ranting teacher mode. "Look, this isn't going to work if we can't stand the sight of each other!" he reprimanded. "We're professionals, we're not going to let private matters destroy our team. Every single one of us is the best at what we do... _in the freaking world_. If we can't get past our petty little school girl fights and perform inception, we might as well hand ourselves into the police, shutting down the art of dream sharing with it. If the elite can't do it, we're all fucked."

Arthur mulled this over and eventually stood, pulling his car keys from his jeans pocket and gesturing to Ariadne. "Come on," he said, cool and blank.

Ariadne nodded and stood, copying Arthur's emotionless facade. They left the warehouse, heading for Arthur's rental car.

Eames turned back to Yusuf and Dom, visibly dishevelled. "We'll go next," he said, nodding to Yusuf. He threw the warehouse keys to Dom and, with Yusuf by his side, they left for his car.

As they began the drive from the warehouse to the city, Yusuf seemed to be shifting uncomfortably. "What's wrong?" Eames asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and edging his foot down on the accelerator. He wasn't technically a legal driver, his driving was too dangerous for him to pass the test. But forging a license was a slice of cake for Eames, therefore it wasn't a surprise that Arthur was designated the driver of the team.

"Not exactly in the mindset I want to be in for a job of this scale," Yusuf answered with a sigh. "I'm just so surprised."

"Arthur knows he's done wrong, Dom and I have made bloody sure of it," Eames replied edgily, remembering yesterday's fight vividly.

"I'll be honest, I knew one of you three would screw Ariadne over at some point. To be honest, I thought it would be you, with your gambling and your drinking... I just really didn't think it would be Arthur!" Yusuf said, making Eames snigger.

"Arthur's... more of a ladies' man than you'd think. Not quite like _me, _but he's pretty close! I reckon he's screwed more women than Dom, but he's a sneaky bastard, normally so careful not to get caught. Heck, he knows tricks even I don't know!" the forger said with a grin.

"You don't think they've... gone that far, do you?" Yusuf asked hesitantly.

"It honestly wouldn't surprise me. If I remember correctly, in Dom and Mal's early days, Arthur was sneaking around with Mal! He lost interest though, and she fell in love with Dom. Win, win, win, really. Dom doesn't know that, though, so keep your trap shut," Eames said sharply.

Yusuf nodded with a grim look on his face. Arthur, the one who was so cool, collected, _controlled_ had done this to Dom _twice _now? He was beginning to lose sympathy for the Point Man. If he really was that weak, he deserved everything he got.

Sullen, arrogant, condescending and downright mean, it was becoming apparent that Arthur wasn't everything he seemed. Add that to a large appetite for women, and you have a recipe for disaster.

Arthur's cover was cracking. His true colours were beginning to show.

_**A/N:**__ I have to ask, what do you think of Bridie? I realise she's quite underdeveloped right now but she will be coming back! If you could drop a review, with a little constructive criticism that would be brilliant! I love getting them and hearing your opinions! S xxxx_


	13. Twelve

**Twelve**

"What have we done?" Arthur asked as he drove, his fingers gripping up on the steering wheel.

Ariadne looked up at his gaunt, depressed face. He'd been so happy yesterday in their dream. He'd kissed her like he didn't intend on letting go, he had a _tattoo _and he'd seemed truly alive for the first time in weeks. "You regret it, don't you?"

Arthur sighed, feeling ready to cry. "I don't regret loving you, Ari, if that's what you mean. I regret being caught. Dom punched me and called you a bitch. Eames was _yelling _at me. If I didn't have Eames... I'd be lost. To think that the one man I truly love like he's my own flesh and blood _can't stand the sight of me, _it's just... heartbreaking," he admitted.

Ariadne rested a warm hand on his knee. "Arthur, Eames loves you. He'll forgive you, trust me. And I love you. The three of us, we'll pull through this, I promise," she said, feeling so helpless and weak. Arthur had lost so much in the course of minutes and all she'd lost was Dom, a man she was realising she hadn't ever truly loved. It was Arthur she loved and she saw it now, as clear as day. It was always Arthur. From the first touch of his strong hands on her forearm when Mal stabbed her, a tiny part of her had known he was _it. _The _one, _if you liked. It just took her too bloody long to realise.

Arthur smiled weakly, taking Ariadne's hand in his and allowing himself to relax as they came to the airport. "This is going to be easier than last time," he said.

"Well, until we have to perform inception!" Ariadne pointed out.

"Yes, until inception."

* * *

The woman sat on the edge of her barstool, sipping her drink fervently and pulling her dress straight. Her flight was in little under an hour and the airport bar was beginning to test her nerves. This would be hard. Very hard. She knew it in her gut. Not the task itself, but the mere idea of it went against everything she believed. It was horrible, really, when she thought about the fact that she'd accepted. But, there was millions at stake... so much money that she'd never have to work again.

The barstool next to her scraped back and a man took a seat. The woman told herself not to look and not to attract attention, but it seemed the man had other ideas.

"Hello, darling," he drawled, his rich, English accent sounding like music to her ears. "Can I get you a drink?"

The woman glanced at her half full glass and wondered why on earth the man thought this would work. His accent could probably work wonders on a weaker girl, but they didn't even budge this particular one. "I'm quite alright, thank you very much," she replied briskly, taking another sip of her drink. The sound of the ice clinking against the glass was all that filled the next few seconds as the man rebuffed.

"Come on, honey, don't be like that! What are you drinking?" he asked smoothly, his tone slightly bemused.

The woman closed her eyes for a few seconds in an effort to keep calm. Then, she turned to face the man, her eyes wide and alert. She tried not to gasp as she took him in. He was incredibly good looking, bordering on beautiful. Muscular, tall, striking blue eyes, full lips, white, charmingly crooked teeth and a wide smile. "This is very flattering of you, Mr..."

"Eames," he offered, his smile growing wider instead of failing, like the woman had intended.

"Mr Eames, but I have a flight soon... and, quite frankly, I'm not interested," she said sharply and downed the rest of her drink in fast gulps. As she got up to leave, she felt Mr Eames pinch her backside and she jumped with a small wince.

"A sexy young lady like you, you're bound to be interested in a guy like me!" he said with a smirk.

The woman repressed a vile retort and continued to deal with the situation in a calm, sophisticated manor. She turned back to Mr Eames, trying to ignore the sting in her backside as she did so. "Mr Eames, I'm fast losing my patience and I do not appreciate being called _sexy _and having my backside pinched by a stranger, of all things. I would suggest you back off," she told him calmly.

Eames rolled his eyes and stood, deciding to turn the full extent of his charms on her. "I think you're just letting your head natter, beautiful. Why don't you let your heart decide?" he asked, towering over her, his large, scarred hands coming to a rest on her hips.

The woman's blood started pounding in her ears as she tried not to give in. He looked delicious, smelled delicious. Heck, he even sounded delicious. But she wasn't one to give in to the charms of a stranger, albeit an experienced one. "I am, Mr Eames. And I am deciding to leave," she snapped, her voice trembling slightly and strutted from the bar, leaving Eames with an exasperated look on his face.

As he wandered outside in search of Yusuf, he became transfixed on the girl as she walked away, his eyes locked on her rear end. "You're disgusting, Mr Eames," Yusuf insisted, appearing at his shoulder.

Eames jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. "You can't deny that she's lovely, Yusuf!" he added with a smirk.

"A good man like me could, an animal like you wouldn't dare," Yusuf replied, elbowing Eames playfully.

With a sigh, Eames snapped himself out of it and glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "What time's our flight?" he asked, rubbing his stubble-marked chin wearily.

"Not long now, Mr Eames. Just under an hour, I suspect!" Yusuf told him, "And nice show in there, by the way. The next time I want to pick up a woman, I'll be sure to do the opposite!"

Eames ignored Yusuf's sniggers and set off for their gate. With a job of this magnitude approaching, he really needed to be in the correct sort of mindset. And Yusuf wasn't helping at all.

* * *

The young woman from the bar sat in business class, glancing around fervently at her co-workers. They were all men and all grim, wearing black suits and hard expressions. This was her first time on a job like this, she'd only heard of such a business months ago. When they had approached her whilst she was working at home, all they'd told her was that they were in need of a bomb specialist and that they would pay her millions if she agreed. And if she didn't, her parents went the same way as her sister had.

"Losing your nerve?" an elderly man asked her, a sympathetic edge in his voice as he took in the fidgeting young woman.

She concentrated on controlling her breathing, attempting to wipe her sweaty hands dry on her dress. "Just a little," she muttered, "I've never done work like this before."

"Don't be, you're no use to us if you're a snivelling wreck," another man snapped, glaring at her.

The woman grimaced at him and accepted a glass of cold water from the air hostess, sipping it gratefully. The cool liquid grounded her and she started to feel a little better. She knew her part well. Get in, make the bomb and then wait. Easy enough. But, as she'd said before, she'd never done work like this. It went against everything she stood for.

But she needed to toughen up. She could handle herself well, she'd proved that with Mr Eames. Why was she so worried about this? She took a second to get her emotions under control, putting on a mask of strength and confidence that covered her fear. From now until she was done, she would remain robot like. Of that, she was determined.

There was the sound of the curtain to the first class cabin being drawn and the woman settled back into her chair, knowing it wouldn't be long now. Minutes later, the air hostess popped her head round the curtain and gave its inhabitants a nod.

With a deep breath, the woman stood and led the way into the first class cabin, pulling a PASIV extension cable from her purse for the other thugs. She faltered as she looked into the faces of the sleeping dreamers, her eyes going wide when she recognised Mr Eames. With a shake of her head, she continued with her work, attaching the extension to the main PASIV console and opening the little box it was attached to.

She pulled out a cable for herself and watched as her teammates took their own, downing their sleeping pills and lying down on the ground. She followed, but froze when she spotted another man she recognised. It was him, she couldn't be wrong.

It was Arthur. The man from the bar in Rio. His face was sweet and cute in sleep and his hand was coiled backwards, like he'd went to sleep holding the hand of the woman behind him. Was that his 'girl' as he'd called her?

"Bridie, would you hurry up?" one man snapped.

With a horrible lump in her throat, Bridie lay down, swallowed her pill and punctured her wrist with the cable's needle, strapping it in place. No sooner had her head went to the floor than the dream began.

_**A/N:**__ I told you she'd be back! Well, there you are! As always, if you could leave a review, that would make my day. Constructive criticism is much appreciated and, I have to know, what do you think of Bridie now?_


	14. Thirteen

**Thirteen**

The first thing Arthur felt was the searing warmth of the city and, as his eyes fluttered open, he found he was already sweating. He hopped into the van parked on the pavement before him and started the engine with the keys he found in his pocket, putting the air conditioning on full blast. The streets were quiet and, with one glance at his watch, Arthur confirmed it was midday. The heat was so horrible he immediately assumed there was some sort of siesta going on. His phone buzzed in his pocket, a text from Dom. _Where are you? _it read.

_Outside the bakery, in the van _Arthur replied as the passenger's door opened. In hopped Eames, yanking at the neck of his shirt in an attempt to cool himself down. He sighed as he met the air conditioning and closed the door immediately. "Jesus Christ, what was Yusuf thinking?" he wondered aloud.

"No idea," Arthur muttered as the van's sliding door opened and Dom clambered in, his carefully greased hair already flopping into his eyes. Ariadne followed quickly, pulling her long hair back into a ponytail and, finally, Yusuf arrived.

At the sound of the door closing, Arthur pulled out onto the street and pushed his foot down on the accelerator. "Yusuf, what's this about?" he asked sharply, gesturing to the haze that was coming off the tarmac roads.

"We're in Brazil up there! You lot try and be the first level dreamer and then keep on bashing me!" he snapped, mopping his brow with his sleeve.

Arthur could only sigh as he stopped for a red light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of burgundy hair. His head snapped right to see that whoever it was had already vanished. But he could have sworn he recognised that hair, he just couldn't place who it belonged to.

The light turned green and he continued to drive his team to the safe house, pushing the red hair from his mind.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the team were in relaxation mode, waiting for the heat to calm and the city to come to life. Dom had called Medrar Corporate Towers and had arranged an appointment for five tonight. He would go with Arthur and Ariadne and meet with the CEO, when they would tell him all about the perks of funding NASA so that he could relay them onto Medrar. Simultaneously, Eames would be at the docks, where Medrar would be yachting or doing some other rich people nonsense as Eames had so callously explained. There, he would transform into the scientist he wanted Medrar to fall for and attempt to charm the socks off of him.

Arthur was sprawled across his bed as the worst of the heat came. His suit lay discarded on the floor in favour of a t-shirt and shorts that hadn't really helped all that much.

There came a knock at the door, to which Arthur called "Come in!", his speech slurred in the horrible heat. The door creaked open and in came Ariadne, in a vest top and pyjama shorts. "Hey," Arthur said, perking up and pushing himself onto his elbows.

Ariadne smiled and closed the door behind her, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I swear I'm going to pass out from this heat," she muttered, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

Arthur coiled his arms around her waist and gently pulled her down to lie next to him. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I didn't want it to be raining this time," he replied, kissing her neck repeatedly.

Ariadne giggled at the ticklish sensation that sent small shivers down her spine. "No, it wasn't what I was thinking on, either. It's worse than Rio here!" she told him, curling into his lean body and feeling heat pulsate off of his sweat-slick skin. She didn't mind, though, as she was exactly the same.

"Are you ready for this pitch thing?" Arthur asked hesitantly as he nuzzled her neck.

"It should be easy enough. Just get this CEO to promise to relay what we've said on to Medrar," she explained.

Arthur chuckled as she spoke. "I understand it, Ari, you're avoiding my question," he pointed out.

"Yeah... I guess I am. It's just... I get so guilty just by looking at Dom," she replied, resting her head in the crook of Arthur's neck.

"I know how you feel, Ari, I should have been more careful," Arthur said with a weary sigh.

Ariadne inhaled his heavenly scent and let out a small yawn. The heat was energy draining and it really didn't help that Ariadne was so young and new to dream sharing. "What do you mean, you should have? If anything, _I _should have been more careful. I was the one that was cheating," she muttered, hating herself with all her being.

"Ari, please don't be like that on yourself. We both did wrong, but Dom's a good man. He'll find someone eventually, maybe he'll love her more than he loved Mal. We're happy together, surely that's got to count for something?" he mused, feeling increasingly annoyed with himself.

"I love you," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

The Point Man smiled, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh. "I love you too, Ariadne," he murmured, for her ears only.

In the exhausting heat, they drifted off to sleep, happy just to sleep in each other's arms.

"Hey, Arthur-" came Cobb's voice as the door opened and he wandered in, his nose buried in papers. It wasn't until he looked up did he see them and his face went blank. He remained silent, walking hurriedly back to his room, almost vacant and resigned. Eames stood by the door and watched in confusion as Dom wandered away, his face hidden from view. With a raised eyebrow, he peeked into Arthur's room and when he came across the tangled lovers, a small smile came onto his lips.

This was the most peaceful he'd seen Arthur be in years. All his worry lines were smoothed and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. In truth, they looked like entwined children, almost like the end of Romeo and Juliet. So Tom walked away without another word, leaving the star-crossed lovers to sleep.

* * *

Dom could hardly meet his Point Man's eye as he was joined by him later in the kitchen. Arthur was dressed in a slate grey three piece suit, his short hair gelled in an effortless but yet eye-catching style. In that moment, Dom envied everything Arthur had. He was very good looking, he was lean and muscular, he didn't look older than twenty and, most of all, Ariadne was happy just to fall asleep in his arms.

Dom made no mention of that, though, not wanting Arthur to know he'd walked in on them. It would just aggravate their already torn friendship which was clinging on by the last few threads, and, quite frankly, Dom relied on Arthur heavily.

He'd often thought to himself in the past how Arthur was the backbone and _the _single most important part of a team. If you didn't have a Point Man, you were screwed, no question about it. Extractors are seen as the lead man of any team, the one who gets the glory and the cash. Then, there was the Point Man, who was almost a puppeteer. He could pull the strings to get what he wanted and no one could do anything about it, because he was needed more than anyone.

So, Dom decided to strictly avoid talking to Arthur as much as he could. Not enough to make him feel like he was getting the cold shoulder, but enough to avoid an argument and possibly another fight.

"You ready for this?" Arthur asked out of the blue as he finished chugging down a bottle of water.

Dom jumped violently as his train of thought crashed. "Er... yeah. As long as Eames gets his job done, we should be fine," he replied, sipping his mug of lukewarm coffee in an absent minded fashion and not even glancing at the Point Man.

Arthur nodded and filled up his bottle, drinking more down so that the silence wasn't too awkward. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and then closed it again with little more than a stutter. He couldn't think of something he truly wanted to say without sending Dom into a rage.

So, when Eames bustled through the door, Arthur felt a surge of relief. Eames wasn't one to let an icy silence go on unbroken. "Hey, darling," he said, pushing the end of Arthur's bottle into the air as he drunk and spilling water all over him. Eames chuckled with satisfaction and grabbed a beer from the fridge, opening it with his teeth.

Arthur spluttered and brushed the water from his suit, glaring at the Forger. "What the hell was that for?" he snapped. If looks could kill, Eames would be cold.

"I was bored!" Eames replied simply after he downed half his bottle in one go.

Dom had to bite back a snigger and checked his watch. They had half an hour before they had to be at Medrar Corporate Towers. "Ariadne!" he called, "Hurry up!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned back against the counter. Trust Dom to want to be even prompter than he did. Just then, Ariadne came through the kitchen door and Arthur's jaw went slack.

She looked beautiful, so much more grown up than she had recently. She looked more like his dream Ariadne, the Ariadne of her mid twenties. The richest, smartest dream architect in the world who was known to be dangerous. She was dressed in a white shirt and a slate grey blazer with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and skin tight black trousers. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in delicate waves and her large brown eyes were lined with a subtle colour.

In fact, it took Eames waving frantically in front of his face to wake him up before Dom got jealous. "She's pretty, I get it. Stop making such a side show of yourself!" Eames warned him in little more than a whisper.

Arthur averted his gaze and gulped heavily, wishing he could just do what he liked without having to worry about what Dom thought. Nevertheless, there was work to be done. "Come on, I'm driving," he told Dom and Ariadne, picking up the keys from the counter. "See you later, bro," he added, jabbing Eames with his elbow.

"Yeah, I'm off to be a woman and flirt with a man. Since when was my job so mental?" Eames asked with a grin.

"Our job was always mental," Arthur pointed out and led the way outside. With a bat of his eyes, the van was a luxury sports car, causing Arthur to grin. How he'd missed the creation of the dream. He noticed the odd looks from the passing projections but ignored them. Whereas it seemed Dom had other plans.

"Nice going, now they know to look out for us!" he snapped.

"You know, you wouldn't have yelled at me for that before," Arthur pointed out sourly as he got into the car. "I'm really not in the mood. Just get in and I'll deal with the god damn projections."

_**A/N:** Wow! 13 chapters already! Please drop a review telling me what you thought, they make getting up at 7am that little bit more bearable! (Yes, I am as lazy as I sound!) Constructive criticism is much appreciated because I want to make the story better for you! S xxx_


	15. Fourteen

**Fourteen**

"I'm Mr Cobb, I have an appointment with your CEO regarding an investment in space exploration," Dom explained as he drew up to the receptionist.

The elderly woman typed something into her computer and looked up a minute or so later, giving them a brisk nod before gesturing to a security guard. "Sir, would you mind escorting these people up to Mr Gomez's office?" she asked.

The security guard with black sun glasses nodded his head emotionlessly and led the trio to an elevator, letting them go in first and pressing the appropriate button before returning to his previous post.

Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion as the doors shut, leaving the three team members alone in the elevator. "I thought he was an escort?" he mused.

"Need mommy to hold your hand and walk you around, Arthur?" Dom asked sourly, causing Ariadne to grimace.

"I was just wondering! What did I do to deserve that?" Arthur snapped.

Dom had to stop himself from snapping back and reminded himself that he had a job to perform. A very delicate one that could be the difference between life in prison for Eames and Arthur. Come to think of it, Arthur spending his life in prison wasn't all that bad for the extractor.

There was a beep as the elevator reached the right level and the doors slid open. "Chief Executive Officer, Mr W. Gomez," a cool, female voice announced over the tannoy.

* * *

"Are you coming with me?" Eames asked as he popped his head around the living room door.

"Yeah, sure," Yusuf replied from the sofa, switching off the TV and pulling on his shoes.

Once outside, Eames locked the door and led the way to a slightly busier street, where they hailed a cab. "Docks, please," he told the driver and settled back into the soft leather seat. In the slightly breezier evening, he looked across at Yusuf and smirked. "Are you just going to wander around?" he questioned.

"I don't know. I was presuming you invited me because you had actual use in me!" Yusuf replied incompetently. "Did you just take me with you on a whim?"

"Yeah..." Eames drawled, looking confused. "It's me we're talking about!"

Yusuf nodded, it did seem like something Eames would do. "Alright, boyo, you are my back up!" Eames told him, passing him one of the handguns he kept on him at all times. He slid it across the leather seat so as to avoid the driver seeing it.

Yusuf eyed it nervously before snatching it up and hastily stashing it in his waistband. "Fine. Anything else?"

"Nope!" Eames replied and they were silent for the rest of the ride.

When the cab pulled up to the docks, Eames slid the driver a twenty and got out of the car. He waited on the curb side for Yusuf, who came to his side seconds later. "Alrighty, you just walk along the shop front and get ready to shoot if I need you, yeah?"

"Sure thing," Yusuf replied and went to the opposite side of the street, leaving Eames to turn and face the docks.

It only took him a second to decide upon the public toilets that stood just metres away from the pontoon. As he approached, he tried to decide just which gender he'd be better to use. He didn't normally _have _to transform into women in such a public place.

He tried Women first but when he walked in, a middle-aged projection was washing her hands in the sink and, upon looking up, threw him a disgusted look.

"Oh! The dress means 'women'! That... that makes sense!" Eames yammered as he quickly backed out, feeling his cheeks flush bright red. "Crap," he muttered and went into the Men's room instead.

He locked himself in a stall and took a deep breath, visualising the pretty Dr Garner in his head and going through the unique thought process of a Forger. He shut his eyes and, with a sharp exhale of breath, felt the familiar shift in his body as he became someone else entirely.

His eyes snapped open and he unlocked the cubicle, stepping forward to view his handiwork in the mirror. It was perfect, down to the last speck of green in his... or her eyes. He really wasn't sure which.

Tall, slender, sleek and brunette, Eames had Dr Garner down to a T.

He looked down at his attire and the familiar sense of confusion hit him as he saw a distinctively woman's body in a very, very feminine sundress. He knew he would never quite get used to this.

With a self-satisfied grin, Eames exited the restroom, ignoring the horrible click of his heels on the tile flooring. He'd always admired the talent females possessed for walking on what was basically stilts, as a lot of women that had hit on him were wearing such horrifyingly high shoes he'd seriously considered packing them off to the circus. And he was almost disgusted at himself that he could walk flawlessly in them, too. That wasn't right in Eames' mind. Not right at all.

Perhaps the more elegant weight distribution of the female body made it easier for them to balance like this, he pondered as he walked down to the docks, ignoring the odd looks he got for exiting the men's bathroom. But he was over thinking such a trivial matter, something else he noticed when he changed into a woman. Women over think, men under think, he learnt that pretty much as soon as he started in this business. However much it stained Tom's pride to know he could walk effortlessly in women's shoes, he shoved those thoughts to the side to make room for the matter in hand. Medrar.

Thank goodness he had to remove the emasculating shoes to walk on the old fashioned wooden plank pontoon. It took only seconds to spy Medrar and Eames almost snorted at how correct he'd been in his wild assumption that Medrar would spend his time on a private yacht.

Eames chose the smaller, sleeker yacht opposite Medrar's on the docks to use as an excuse to hang around. Once he drew up to it, he bent far over the yacht's side to place the heels in the boat, shamefully giving Medrar a very nice view of Dr Garner's backside. _Sorry, pet! If you weren't so bloody pretty I might not have to flaunt you like this! _he said silently to Dr Garner, who had absolutely no idea that some random man was impersonating her in a dream and objectifying her to a billionaire Brazilian playboy.

The wolf whistle was almost immediate and Eames had to refrain from scoffing at the horrid cliché of a supposedly romantic gesture. "Please do not whistle to me like I am a flea ridden mongrel, sir," he snapped, startled by the high pitched, melodic voice that came out of his mouth. Yep, he'd never quite get used to this. He stood up straight and turned to glare at Medrar, who was smirking back.

"Baby, you're anything but!" Medrar insisted in his thick accent.

_Jesus Christ, is that what _I _sound like when I'm chatting up girls? _Eames wondered to himself, telling himself he needed to revise that. But he sharply pulled himself back to reality, getting back to the work in hand. "That's very flattering, but I take no interest in men who frolic on boats all day," he replied with a slight sour tone. Eames hoped Arthur was right when he said Medrar wasn't the type to give up.

Medrar stood and hopped out of his boat. "Who _do_ you take interest in, then, my lovely?" he asked smoothly, making Eames want to gag. For a brief second he considered teaching this man a lesson, but backed away from that thought sharply. He was here to get Medrar to donate to NASA, not give him a master class in treating women with respect. Not that Eames had thought himself worthy of teaching such a thing after his run in at the girl in the airport bar.

He was angry he let her get away, but even angrier that he'd driven her away in the first place. She was beautiful, after all. Not pretty, like Garner or any other woman he would normally date that just threw themselves at him. That woman had been flat out, hands down, way-out-of-his-league beautiful. He wondered if that was why she hadn't responded, she was smart enough to know she was worth more than him. But he had treated her horribly. _Wow, the female mind can burn through a lot of topics really, really fast whilst maintaining a conversation... _he thought to himself, his admiration for the opposite sex only increasing. But back to the matter in hand. "A man who can give me a lesson on quantum physics whilst constructing a Mars rover. A man who is so smart he can apply the term 'it's not rocket science' to _actual _rocket science. And a great interest in space exploration wouldn't hurt his chances, either. Catching my drift, Mr Spoiled, Lay About Playboy?" he said, hoping he'd bamboozled Medrar at least as much as he had himself.

"So, you're after a smart guy?" Medrar concluded, trying to conceal his confused expression.

"Not really _smart,_ just eager to learn, sir," Eames replied with a small smile.

Medrar returned his- or her -smile. "What's your name, miss?"

"Doctor Maria Garner," Eames said with a knowing grin.

"Doctor, you say? I'm Rico Medrar. And, if you don't think I'm being too forward, it's a pleasure to be in such a well-educated woman's presence," Medrar told him. Or her. Eames was disgusted at the attitude change Medrar had undertook once realising Dr Garner was more than a pretty face. Did women without PhDs in every science imaginable really deserve to be talked down to as he had just a few minutes ago?

"The pleasure's all mine, sir," Eames said, knowing his years in Drama school had paid off when he resisted the urge to spit in Medrar's face.

Medrar was opening his mouth to reply when there was an ear-splitting explosion. In a moment of panic, Eames yelled "Holy shit!" and saw his reflection on the water. He was once more a twenty-six year old Brit, his cover blown in his shock. As he glanced fervently over his shoulder, he watched a skyscraper collapse, immediately fearing the worst. But the sound of Medrar running away pulled him back to his work. He set off after the small Brazilian man, catching him in seconds.

As Eames took a firm, rough grasp of Medrar's shoulder, the Brazilian yelled "What the hell is going on?"

"You tell me," Eames snapped and dragged him behind the public toilets.

* * *

Glancing around fervently, Arthur brought up the rear of the group, Dom charging ahead down the pristine corridor with one glass wall. The cold steel of Arthur's gun on his hip was inviting and protective as the building was horribly quiet. The only sounds were the traffic of the city bellow and Arthur had to stop his hands from pulling out his weapon. Old habits die hard.

"Alright, this way," Dom instructed as they came to a secretary's office, which was hauntingly empty. On the far side of the room was a door with a silver plaque stating _CEO Gomez._

"Dom... there's _no one here. _You think nothing's up?" Arthur said sharply, his eyes darting back and forth.

"I'm with Arthur. I say we leave," Ariadne seconded.

Dom rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, his gaze ridiculing and disgusted. "Yeah, you would side with him! I say we keep going and _I'm _in charge."

Arthur felt the urge to spit at his feet but refrained. Eames had been right, he sucked at making judgements when he was emotionally invested.

Dom drew up to the door and knocked, to which there was no response. So her turned the knob and pushed, not even noticing the string attached to the other handle.

"DOM! CLOSE THE FUCKING DO-" Arthur screamed, but was stopped mid sentence as the door opened marginally too far. The string, by this point taut, sprung free of whatever held it, a metal grenade pin attached to the other end. But it wasn't just a grenade. It was a bomb. The last thing Arthur felt was boiling heat on his face as the world went white.

_**A/N:** Good one, Dom! As always, if you could leave me a review, that would be brilliant! And what do you think about Eames and his love hate relationship with high heels? Constructive criticism is much appreciated! S xxx_


	16. Fifteen

**Fifteen**

"You're safe with me, mate. Don't worry," Eames insisted as he gripped Medrar's shoulder with one hand, the other moving to his gun. If Medrar got away now, there was no telling when he'd next come out in public.

To his shock, gunfire commenced around him, blasting parts of bricks from the public toilets. He couldn't see who it was or what was happening, but a bullet must have met a target, as a blood curdling scream was heard.

"Where's the British one?" came a male voice.

"I don't know! Where's Medrar?" came another.

"Do I look like I'm hiding them behind my back? Get looking, you morons!" said a third.

There were hurried footsteps and one man came skidding around the corner of the toilets. "They're here!" he cried. In quick, sharp motions, Eames pulled his gun, popped the safety catch and blew a hole in the man's knee, causing him to crumple to the ground and give them enough time to run.

So Eames sprinted to the road, pulling Medrar with him. The gunmen took a split second to realise and were shooting in an instant. Now, for Eames, it was all about his own bloody luck, as it so often was with his life. "Watch out! Don't hit Medrar!" one man cried.

Eames brow furrowed in confusion in the midst of the gunfire. He slammed into a car and forcibly pulled the back door open, pushing a dazed Medrar inside. He sprinted around the other side and jumped in the driver's seat, imagining a key in his pocket, which came just as a bullet struck the windscreen. Eames cussed loudly as he pulled out the key and started the engine. The back door opened and Yusuf sprawled in, only just closing the door before Eames sped off down the shop front.

"Cover Medrar's eyes... Jesus Christ, Yusuf, why do I smell blood?" Eames demanded as they sharply turned a corner. The nauseating, rusty smell met his nose with such power that he was sure it was practically spilling out of the chemist.

"Shot in the shin," Yusuf replied as he cast his jacket over Medrar's head. "Keep it there! I have a gun," he barked at the man.

"Will you manage back to the safe house?" Eames asked urgently, the speed gage reaching seventy miles an hour, a horrific speed for in a city.

"Yeah, if you don't make me sick!" Yusuf replied with a wince.

Eames smirked and focused entirely on the road, knowing his driving needed all of his attention right now. A backup plan was already forming in the back of his mind. If they were to hold Medrar hostage and 'Dr Garner' were to rescue him...

But niggling doubts had a firm, iron grasp of him. What if the building that had exploded was... he refused to think about it. No. Arthur wouldn't let that happen. He could smell a bomb a mile off.

When they were back, Eames hustled Medrar into a spare room and locked the door before carrying Yusuf to his own room with all of his medicines. "Look, I'm pretty shit at the nurse thing..." he muttered as he looked at all the draughts and bandages and stuff.

"Mr Eames, I think we both know I'm more than capable of bandaging up a bullet in my shin," Yusuf said with a grin through the pain.

Eames nodded, rubbing his stubbly chin wearily. "Yup, you're right. You sure it hasn't hit a bone or anything?"

"Well, I'll find out, won't I?" Yusuf replied.

"Drop the Mr, by the way. Pisses me off," Eames joked and went to leave.

"Wait, Mr- I mean Eames! Call the others, okay? If that was Medrar Corporate Towers that exploded, we're screwed," Yusuf insisted.

"What I was going to do. Great minds think alike," Eames said with a smirk and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He pulled his mobile out immediately and phoned Arthur.

"The person you're calling is not available right now, please leave a message after the tone," came the recorded message.

With a moan, Eames hung up and phoned Ariadne instead.

"The person you're calling is not available right now, please-"

"Fuck off!" Eames said and pulled the phone away from his ear, hanging up. "Okay... Dom. If you don't pick up..." he muttered, his hands starting to shake. If Dom didn't pick up, they could pretty much be sure that it was Medrar Corporate Towers that exploded not ten minutes ago.

"The person you're-"

"Shit! Shit, shit, SHIT!" Eames cried, hanging up and throwing his mobile across the room. He collapsed down on the stairs and buried his head in his hands, horrible sobs racking his body. "I'm going to jail... Arthur's in limbo... we're both going to jail!" he simpered like a mad man. "He's going to be mental by the time they're out! I know it!"

A single sound broke through Eames' torment, a sound horrible enough to ruin him. Laughter. Sly, slow laughter. He stood and padded down the hall, fumbling with the key for the spare room. As the door creaked open, Eames came face to face with Medrar who was smirking a knowing smile.

* * *

Salt water washed down Arthur's throat and up his nose like rancid acid as he awoke. He pushed himself out of the water and coughed up a horrible amount of the throat-burning stuff, gagging long after it was gone.

Once done, he looked around the beach he stood on, a thin strip of sand with a dilapidated city to his left and the sea to his right. Fury consumed the Point Man as he raked the area over with his eyes, searching for Ariadne and Cobb. "Stupid bastard," he muttered as he spotted Dom emerging from the waves. "What the hell?" he cried.

Dom collapsed to his knees on the beach, cursing and ranting, his face flushed with anger.

"Arthur, what happened?" Ariadne asked as she waded out of the water, glancing up at the horribly familiar setting. She was shaking, her voice trembling. Arthur pulled her into his arms, not caring that Dom was metres away, and held her close, feeling her warmth soak into him as she squeezed him.

"It was a bomb, Ari. But we'll fix this. We'll get out of here, I promise. Eames, he can fix this," Arthur whispered in her ear, his own voice shaking with fear.

"What if he can't? What if we're stuck here for years?" she shot back, weeping into Arthur's shoulder.

"I won't let that happen, I promise," he replied.

"That's, er... that's a lot of promises you're making there, Arthur. Care to explain how you'll uphold them?" Dom sneered, making Arthur roll his eyes. He turned his head sharply towards Dom, one arm still wound protectively around Ariadne's waist.

"I told you to close the door. Why didn't you listen?" he asked sharply, feeling Ariadne quiver.

"What's done is done. What I want to know is how is our fabulous, flawless Point Man going to crack us out of this one?" Dom asked sourly.

Arthur tensed, his anger rising. "Why doesn't the glorious Extractor try thinking for himself, for once?" he spat back. "I'm far from flawless, Dom, but I'm a hell of a lot closer to perfect than you!"

Dom tittered and glanced up at the crumbling city, his eyes narrowing at the depressing sight. Then, he turned back to Arthur, seemingly furious. "You think you can just go on like this, do you? Think you can just parade around with Ariadne in front of me, trust Eames to be your little bitch, break us out of _fucking Limbo?! _Stop trying to control and manipulate and twist everything to suit _you!" _Cobb snapped.

As Ariadne's arms tightened around his waist, Arthur could tell it was to restrain him rather than comfort him. He gently prised her off and gave her hand a squeeze before striding forward to meet Dom. "Is that what you think about me?" he asked, rather hurt.

"Yes! You've got your head shoved so high up your own ass you didn't even realise it before! I hate you with my guts, the only reason I stick around is because you are the _perfect _Point Man. You're cold, emotionless, controlling! No one wants to be a perfect Point Man. When you reach that point, you know you're an asshole and a jerk," Cobb hollered back.

Arthur felt his stomach churn, adrenaline and anger coursing through him. "You think you know me, don't you? You think you've got me all figured out! Fine, if I'm like an open book to you. What do I do with my time? When was the last time I spoke to my family, thanks to the job that I apparently do too well? Jesus Christ, do you even know which state I'm from? No, you don't, because you only see and hear what you want to!"

"Fucking hell," Ariadne muttered and stalked off down the street, not really sure where she would go. She just couldn't listen to them any longer. She loved Arthur, she was sure of it, but when he kicked off with Dom, there really was no stopping them.

* * *

"Would you like to explain what the bloody hell is going on?" Eames snapped. Even with red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, he was impossibly intimidating.

"Sure, you tried to pull inception and half your team got blasted into Limbo," Medrar answered simply with a coy grin.

Eames hands tightened into fists as he glowered down on Medrar. He was a tiny, skinny man, even lankier than Arthur. He didn't seem to possess any muscle and yet he had the gall to take on the tank-like man before him. "Please do enlighten me as to how you came across that information," Eames said calmly.

Medrar smirked sadistically, watching Eames' red eyes intently. "Those gunmen aren't projections, Mr Eames, they're _real people. _Up there, in the plane, my men are commandeering this inception. When your team wakes up, you'll be driven mad by Limbo, making it easy for us to finish the job," he replied.

Eames went white, his eyes closing as he started drawing the lines. Their bullets were so wide because they were scared of hitting Medrar, their master. Fury consumed Eames as he drew his gun and pointed it between Medrar's eyes, his own snapping open. "Alright, darling, make this easy for yourself. How do you know who we are and why are you out to get us?"

Medrar raised an eyebrow, his smile fading away.

"Yeah, I'll shoot you. And then you'll be in Limbo for all eternity. What would you rather, pet? Being a few secrets lighter or a few hundred years older?"

_**A/N:**__ Crazy ideas as to what will happen next are very much welcome in reviews! C'mon, guys! Make getting up at 7am a little nicer for me and write me a few kind words! Constructive criticism is much appreciated and thank you so much for reading! :D S xxx_


	17. Sixteen

**Sixteen**

"I'm waiting!" Eames snapped, popping the safety and cocking his gun.

Medrar was trembling under the forger's collarbone crushing grip. "We... I... I'm not Rico Medrar, okay! I'm an actor, Medrar is fictional!" he stammered, his eyes wide.

Eames went pale as his grip on the man's shoulder grew tighter. There was the sound of splintering then a sickening crack as his collar bone gave way, causing him to yelp and whimper. "You're lying! My Point Man would have seen a lie that big a mile off!"

"Oh, the depressed one that's more focused on doing the Architect than the work? The kid's straight out of Relapse, he's playing it tough but he's cracked," the man replied, wincing as Eames' grip grew ever tighter. "That's all I know, all I've been told. I'm not trusted, I'm just a sleazy actor. Go to one of the insiders, they'll tell you what's going on! That is, if you threaten them... Bridie Grant, she was the one that blasted your friends! She's a navy chick and she knows all about explosives," the actor yammered.

Eames considered this for a moment, his eyes going cloudy and angry. He should have broken another bone for him speaking about Arthur like that, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had to get them out of there, and breaking a few bones wouldn't help in the slightest. "Alright. You're staying here till I find this Bridie girl. What does she look like?" he asked sharply.

"Dark red hair, medium height and big blue eyes," he replied, shaking viciously.

Eames' eyebrows shot up, that particular description immediately bringing pictures of the girl at the bar to mind. She wouldn't, she'd seemed so timid and small! His grasp relented as he walked out and slammed the door, locking it behind him. He went straight for Yusuf's room to find him still tending to his leg. "I'm going out to look for a girl called Bridie Grant, she has vital info according to 'Medrar'. I need you to tend to him, seeing as you're pretty much out of action. And ask him to tell you what he told me, pull out your gun if you have too. This is all a scam," he said quickly.

Yusuf's brow furrowed in confusion as he dabbed at the wound. "Okay, Eames, but keep your phone on, I'm not very strong like this and I think the bone's splintered. Actually, speaking of phones-" Yusuf said hurriedly, his mind ever sharp and alert in spite of the local anaesthesia he'd injected into his shin.

"They're dead, if that's what you're wondering. We have to get them out of there, and this explosives girl, she's how we're doing," Eames explained. "Oh, and I kinda broke that loony's collarbone. At least he won't be swinging punches."

Yusuf closed his eyes, murmuring a prayer under his breath and Eames wasn't sure if it was for Arthur, Ariadne and Dom or for him and his collarbone breaking antics. With one last nod, he was out the door, fury coursing through him as the sun dipped in the sky.

* * *

"We just wait? Is that our best option?" Ariadne asked as she fondled Arthur's thin, bony hands.

He nodded dully. "Yup. And it's going to be a long one. An hour up with Eames means half a day here, which sucks," he admitted, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"Thank god Dom went off, I don't think I could deal with him right now," she whispered. As she curled up to him on the sofa, she rested her head in the crook of his neck. The cosy, poky apartment was situated on top of a high rise, which Arthur said would be best, as they needed to get out of here quickly when Yusuf generated the kick. "Eames has two layers to perform inception..."

"And if either man dies, we're all screwed. Jeez, I've seen Eames do amazing things, but if he can pull this off on his own, he deserves a Nobel Prize," Arthur muttered, trying to have confidence in their absent minded, slightly crazed Forger. "As long as he keeps the drinking to a minimum, we should be fine."

Ariadne snorted. "I kinda want to kick myself, getting in to a situation where _fricking Thomas Eames _is my last hope. I love him, but the guy thinks bullets will just bounce off him! Slightly delusional and overly confident, if you get my drift."

The Point Man chuckled, remembering all the times he'd had to trust Eames, a large portion of which had gone horribly wrong. "He's gotten me out of sticky spots before. More often than not, he does a shit job of it, but he does it!" he replied, making her laugh.

"Yeah, well, he's got Yusuf. Yusuf's probably the most grounded out of us, after you," she told him, poking him between the ribs playfully.

Arthur sighed. "I'm not boring, like Dom said, am I?"

"I don't like boring guys, Arthur. A man who can make me laugh is the only man that'll get a yes when he asks me on a date," she said with a smile.

"I haven't taken you on a date..." Arthur pointed out, frowning slightly.

"I was hinting!" Ariadne said with a giggle. "You're hopeless!"

"Oh, crap! Right... erm... Ariadne, will you go on a date with me?" he asked awkwardly, his charms and charisma flitting away in the moment that he needed them most.

"Of course!"

"You didn't say the word yes."

"Yes! Happy?"

"Very!" he answered with a chuckle, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her shoulders.

"Even a boy scout would have picked up on that hint, Arthur!" she replied through her giggles.

"You make me nervous..." he explained lamely.

Ariadne proceeded to laugh. "Are you convinced that you're not boring now?"

"No, I just think I'm lame!" Arthur answered with a sigh, making her laugh even more.

* * *

Eames was one bit of bad news away from smacking his head off of the bar. He rubbed his face wearily and downed the dregs of his pint of beer. "Another?" asked the bartender.

Eames could only shake his head and toss the young man a tip before sauntering out, a gloomy sense of exhaustion setting in. The cool, sharp night air was shocking compared to the day's heat and as he leaned against the wall of the building, gathering his thoughts, he wondered how on earth he was supposed to get his team out of limbo if he couldn't even think straight and find a girl. Arthur often joked about how he was sure Eames had a women radar installed in his head, and, for once, Eames wished he was right.

"Someone must have said something! He's looking for you!" came a sharp voice from the alley next to the bar.

"Why on earth do you think it was me? You're not all the bright, are you?" said a girl, causing Eames to freeze.

"Watch your mouth, Miss Grant! Or I might have to stuff a gun in it!" said the man.

Eames glanced down the alley to see a man with his back to him threatening the shady outline of the girl. She was hardly visible in the night. "Back up, mate!" he snapped, going up behind him and smashing his head into the wall. As the man crumpled to the ground, Eames smirked down on him. "That was too easy!"

Then he felt a foot in his groin and he double over, wheezing and groaning. "So was that," came the girl's venomous voice as she shoved him out of the way and stalked off up the alley.

"Oh no, you don't!" Eames hissed, straightening up and pushing his composure to the extremes as he grabbed her arm and pinned her to the wall. "Never do that. I'm not even bloody joking! If you knew half of how sore that is you would wish you'd never been born, sunshine!"

She snarled and bared her teeth, wrestling against his steel grasp. "So you never did learn how to treat a lady nicely, did you?" she asked sourly, almost spitting in his eyes.

"You're no lady, missy. A kick in the 'nads is a cheap shot and a respectable lady wouldn't do it!" Eames pointed out, still wincing.

"A respectable gent wouldn't pin a girl to the wall, ladylike or not!" she retorted.

Eames eased up on his grasp on her, just enough so that it didn't hurt. "What's a girl as young as you doing with a goon like that, anyway?" he asked, jerking his head at the unconscious blacks-suited man.

"I think we both know the answer to that, Mr Eames," she replied in little more than a dangerous whisper.

Eames eyes went wide, his mind buzzing and the pain in his groin forgotten. He shifted his weight and spun her around so that her face was bathed in moonlight. "You're the girl from the bar, aren't you?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he identified her. Red hair, big blue eyes, slender and dangerous.

"Yes, I am, Tom. I should have realised it was you, really, seeing as I basically had to study you like some stalker, like your mate, Arthur. I met him in a bar, an' all, just a few days ago... but down to business. You've left a trail, Mr Eames, I know you're looking for me. I'm Bridie Grant, how may I help you?" she asked in a sickly sweet tone.

Eames swallowed hard. This would be way harder than he originally thought. "Ex navy bird _and _a bomb nerd? I underestimated you, Miss Grant," he grumbled, greatly regretting that he'd mistaken her for a harmless, pretty little thing.

"How tasteful of you! For your information, I am fresh out of the Navy. Let's just say I wasn't good at following orders. I bow down to no one, the sooner you learn that, the better for you... and your balls. And as for bombs, I wouldn't call myself an expert, but hey, I built the one that blew your mates sky-high," she purred, glaring so menacingly at Eames that even he was starting to get scared.

He gave her a look of rage and contempt. She really was a nasty little bitch. "I need a few answers, girly, and you're going to help me!" he told her and pulled her out onto the street, thinking up the keys for the nearest car and opening it.

"If you think I'm getting in a car with you, you've got another thought coming!" she snapped.

Eames groaned. "Baby, I don't _think _you're getting in, I _know _it!" he quipped and shoved her in, locking the door behind her and getting in the driver's seat.

"Slimy shit," she muttered as he started driving.

"Whatever, babe," he replied and cast her jacket over her head. "And keep that on. I have a gun."

_**A/N: **__Sorry I didn't update last night! Here you are, this was mega fun to write. If you could please support me and leave a review, that would be amazing! S xxxxx_


	18. Seventeen

**Seventeen**

Eames's mobile rung as he proceeded to drive through the city, skipping red lights and shooting past slower cars. "Pass that, sunshine," he told his silent passenger.

"I would if I could see it!" she snapped, her voice muffled from under Eames' jacket .

With a sharp yank, Eames pulled it from her head, taking a few hairs with it. "Ouch, you bastard!" she yelped, all but throwing his phone in his face and clamping her hands down on the sore spot.

Eames caught it with ease. "What do you want me to do, babe? Glue it back on?" he asked, casting her a cheeky sideways glance. He tapped 'accept', checked caller ID and pressed his phone to his ear, "Hey, Yusuf!" he said in a somewhat cheery manor, thanks to Bridie.

"Speeding, drinking and talking on the phone. You really know how to make a girl feel safe, don't you, hotshot?" Bridie muttered, chewing anxiously on her fingernails.

"Shut up, doll. Multitasking takes concentration!" he told her with a smirk, revelling in her hilariously contemptuous glare.

"Do I want to know what you're doing, Tom?" Yusuf asked wearily over the crackly line after listening to a portion of the duo's conversation.

Eames considered this for a second. "Probably not! What's up?"

"Our little actor friend told me what's going on. I'm assuming this Bridie girl has more answers?" Yusuf questioned, sounding exasperated.

"Yup, and I'll get them. I know her type, young and pretty, she'll sing like a canary if she thinks she'll get some from me!" Eames replied with a chortle, more to annoy Bridie than anything.

"Oh, so now I'm easy?" Bridie demanded, wanting to slap Eames more with every passing second. She crossed her arms over her chest and slouched back in the black leather seat, looking like an annoyed child.

"No, babe, just willing!" he said, laughing merrily as she gave him a look that could kill.

"You really are disgusting!" said a bemused Yusuf who seemed to be holding down a chuckle as well. He'd known Eames long enough to know the man liked to play with his food before chewing it up and spitting it out. He wasn't horrible to the women in his life, he just tended not to be very polite and respectful.

"You're pretty much quoting every woman I've ever flirted with! Well, as they say, nice guys finish last... we're just outside, talk to you later," he told him and hung up and halted on the pavement outside the safe house.

"Arseholes never get me, you prat," Bridie quipped as she got out of the car.

"You keep telling yourself that, darling, but we both know you can't stand to be without me!" he replied as he got out and took a strong grip of her shoulder, guiding her up the pathway and into the house.

"You really think you're that slick?" she asked sourly.

"I know it, sunshine!" he replied. Once in the door, he pulled her upstairs and pushed her into Ariadne's room, locking the door behind them. Ari had a small balcony that they went onto, both sitting down on the bench.

"I am not speaking, you might as well let me scat," she assured him in a deadly serious tone.

"Why not?"

"Because they're paying me. Millions, Mr Eames. You seem like the type to value money, wankers like you normally do," she snapped, picking idly at her nails.

"Wankers? That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" he asked with an easy grin.

"Not really, _darling," _she quipped, grimacing at him.

"Whatever," Eames replied, growing weary with her constant insults and back-chatting. This needed to move quicker, for every hour he wasted, Arthur was spending half a day in the awful remains of Dominic Cobb's world. "This can be easy or hard, sunshine. Tell me what you know, or I put a bullet through your foot. I ask again and every time you don't answer, I work my way up you with my gun. It's just a dream, darling! It's not real _and _it'll hurt like hell. Therefore my conscience is clear and it has the desired effect."

"That's sick," she snapped.

Eames raised an eyebrow and pulled his handgun from his waist band. "I don't mean to be forward but I really don't have a lot of time. Let's see if you'll agree when you're staring down the barrel of killing machine," he told her, standing up, loading his gun and shooting the leg off of the bench, causing it to collapse and her to topple to the ground. Eames kneeled down, his long legs on either side of her slender waist. "What do you say, babe?" he asked, pressing the cold steel of the gun to her stomach. He didn't want to do this, in fact his actions were scaring him, but this was for Arthur. He had to remember that. He wouldn't risk his little brother for a stupid little girl who didn't know when the power of money no longer applied.

She winced at the feel of the gun on her abdomen, looking up into his large blue eyes and seeing nothing but a robot, programmed to do what needed to be done. "They've got you where they want you, don't they?" she asked.

Eames swallowed hard and used his non gun hand to turn her pretty face to the side, relocating his weapon to her cheek. "Look, darling, I take _no pleasure in this. _This is for Arthur. I _need _to save him and I _need _to do it quickly," he told her, feeling his throat grow tighter.

"You don't seem to be the type to _need _to do anything, Eames! I bet you could snake your way out of visiting your grandpa in the hospital!" she hissed, ignoring the horrible weight of the gun on her cheek.

"Arthur's the reason I'm still standing, twenty times over! I owe him, sunshine, so don't be questioning my motives," Eames said sharply, hating himself for what he was doing. "What do you know? Tell me or I shoot you in the foot and... you know the drill, babe," he told her, standing up and pulling her with him, directing his gun at her shin.

Bridie went pale as she realised Eames was being serious. She gulped, her courage fleeing her in the moment. "Okay, I'll talk! Just _don't shoot me!" _she whimpered, putting her sweating hands in the air.

With that one whimper, Eames melted, instantly wanting to throw the gun over the balcony railing and tell her it would all be alright and that they'd fix this. But she was smart and as sincere as she sounded, he knew all too well it could be a ploy. "I won't, darling, if you comply," he promised, looking her dead in the eye and not even attempting to joke around.

She closed her eyes and breathed out heavily, the only thing she could think of was the gun and the man who knew exactly how to use it. "Okay, if you get annoyed, do _not _take it out on me," she insisted.

"Just start at the beginning," he said softly as he led her inside and sat her down on the bed. He stood before her and stashed his gun in his waistband, not wanting to scare her any more.

"Alright... I was fresh out of the navy. Honourable discharge, watching your sister get shot has it's perks," she said quietly.

Eames choked. Had he seriously just threatened a girl who's sister had just died? He was feeling sicker with every passing second.

"I had cash, I was getting along fine, looking for a new job. Still sick to my stomach, but I was _alive, _which was more than could be said for her. These guys turned up at my flat, they knew a _disgusting _amount about me and they threatened that they'd kill my parents if I didn't do what they wanted. They said 'You do this or your parents will go the same way as good old Kath'. Yeah, didn't really help with the grief," she admitted, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Eames stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump violently. But when she looked up and saw he'd put the gun away, she visibly calmed.

"They knew I could build a bomb and they knew I was good, so they took me to Rio, saying they'd pay me millions to sabotage something they called an 'inception'. Apparently it's unlike any other crime and the people who do it are extremely intelligent, so we needed to do this well. But, with a company as experienced as Cobol behind us, we knew exactly how to go about it," she continued.

It was Eames' turn to jump. "Wait, you're doing this for Cobol?" he asked, bewildered.

"Yeah, they want you guys dead, especially Arthur and someone called Dom Cobb, they say you lot have failed them enough times," she uttered, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, if I'd known you guys were so good-"

"No, it's fine. It was for your parents, even I wouldn't have said a word against those thugs," he assured her, "Anything else I should know?"

"They want to kill you and your mate, Yusuf. They'll kick us out of the dream and leave that sleazy actor to finish Yusuf off. Then, when you guys wake up, you'll be so screwed we can kill you without you so much as flinching," she admitted, rubbing her forehead wearily.

"Simple enough, we just have to start shooting when we wake up, without hesitation," Eames said with a nod. "Are you with us? Or will you be shooting at us?"

Bridie sighed heavily, pretty much melting as he looked her over. She could listen to him speak all day, just the way his voice gave her Goosebumps. It was like drinking strong whiskey, strong, rough and so worth the high. "I'll be with you. After all, if it wasn't for you, that guy probably would have killed me down in the alley. Not to mention they probably would have killed me for real so that there was one less person to blab about what they did," she explained. "But... us... we're not frie-"

"No, we're not friends."

"Good... your shirts make my eyes hurt," she said, settling back into the raw game of trading insults.

"So does your chest! I have to squint to see your t-"

"Alright, enough from the clown!" she snapped, shoving him towards the door and pulling the key out of his pocket. She unlocked the door and opened it for him, all but waving him out.

"Nighty night, princess. Be sure to take your 'My First Bra' off when you put on your Disney PJs!" he quipped, grinning like an idiot.

With a goodnight slap, Bridie sent him out the door, slamming it behind him and jumping on the bed with a groan.

Eames leant against the closed door, rubbing the hand print on his cheek methodically as he grinned. "Little bitch," he muttered and sauntered back to his own bedroom, smiling all the way.

_**A/N:**__ How are you liking the Eames/Bridie dynamics? They're so quick to turn on each other! And did he deserve that slap? (He did!) As always, if you could leave a review, that would be amazing! S xxx_


	19. Eighteen

**Nineteen**

"So, whereabouts were you set up?" Eames asked as they walked down the main streets of the city.

"Down here," she replied and pulled him down a small side street. At a boarded up door, she paused and took a step back.

"Do you want me-" Eames began but soon shut up as Bridie kicked the door clean off its hinges, sending up a choking cloud of smoke.

"Good enough, beautiful?" she asked with a smirk, stepping inside and gesturing for him to follow. Eames smiled and tailed her upstairs where she led him into a creaky old room with bare floorboards and walls with peeling paper. "Wait here a sec, I'll get the kit."

Eames nodded and went to the dirty window, looking up at the marvellous city with a spark of wonder in his eyes. He took in the architecture for what may have been minutes, hours or seconds but soon, Bridie shook him out of his trance. She drew level with him at the window, smiling up at his peaceful expression. "How did one girl build all this?" she asked quietly, causing Eames to jump.

He looked down at her and grinned. "I don't know, Ariadne's something special... more importantly, how does one girl blow it up?"

Bridie chuckled. "Your confidence in me is as inspiring as ever, Mr Eames!" she replied.

"I have every confidence in you, sunshine. And don't call me 'mister', it annoys me," Eames told her with a wink.

Bridie had to push her composure to the extremes as she yanked the backpack in her hand onto her shoulder. She'd never encountered a guy that could make her weak in the knees just by looking at her. "I won't be able to build this thing in your safehouse, you know. Not a big enough space. I need space to think and you need space to store your colossal ego," she said with a grin.

Eames chuckled and pulled out his phone, tapping the contacts list and dialling up a let agent. Within minutes of sweet talk and flirtatious jokes with the female agent, he had a whole warehouse for Bridie. "Am I smooth or what, sunshine?"

Bridie giggled and shook her head at him. "You're incorrigible, no woman should be subject to your flirting!"

"Yeah, I can make any girl melt!" he insisted, his arm snaking around her waist and squeezing her playfully.

"Good luck with that, beautiful!" she said with a wink and stepped out of his grasp, racing out of the building without another word.

She wanted him to prove it? Fine. Eames decided he would have her in his arms by the time the sun had set.

* * *

"This place isn't all that bad," Ariadne said with a small smile.

Arthur nodded in agreement as they wandered the deserted, dusty streets. It was almost eerie how quiet it was, but Arthur didn't really mind. He squeezed Ariadne's waist gently and sighed. "How long have we been here?"

Ariadne hesitated and thought for a second. "Ten days," she replied evenly, her tone unreadable.

"That means Eames has had less than one day... what could Thomas Eames possibly have done in less than one day?" Arthur wondered aloud, itching his unshaven chin irritably.

"Jeez, you mean for every day Eames uses, we spend almost two weeks here?" Ariadne asked in disbelief.

"Exactly," was Arthur's meek reply as he ruffled his dark hair. It was thicker than it had been in Rio and his chin was coated in a thick layer of stubble. His fingernails were getting too long as well. "Is it just me or is everything growing faster in here?"

Ariadne nodded. "I noticed that too," she replied, tearing at her nails with her teeth. "Maybe our brains are working so fast that everything grows in quicker?"

"Well, I've never been in a dream for ten days. I guess you're right, we'll have to lookout for anything else that's out of the norm," Arthur supplied as the sun glared down on them. He chewed at his own dirty fingernails, noticing his hands were quivering ever so slightly. They came to a stop as they arrived at the beach. Ariadne pulled him down into the sand, curling up next to him and twisting her arms around his thin waist. "You've lost weight," she said quietly, slightly shocked.

"I don't feel like eating," Arthur replied simply and kissed her head.

"That's what happens," came Dom's voice, quiet and calm. Arthur glanced behind him to see the extractor was leaning against the closest building.

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked quietly, her grip on Arthur's waist tightening.

"We've been here for long enough that our brains are already confusing what's real and what's a dream. You don't feel hungry because, in real life, it's been little more than two hours since breakfast. But, here, you're denying your body food and energy, therefore you're losing weight. Had trouble sleeping, yet? Not that you two would do much of that, anyway, seeing as you're so _happy _together," Dom spat venomously.

Arthur bit back a snappy retort and poked at his chest. There was the slight feel of his ribs under his abdomen. He was getting thinner, that was a definite.

"Back off, Dom. You're so bitter..." Ariadne snapped, rubbing her forehead methodically.

"I'm just saying that your bodies are getting fucked up down here. Better grab what you can and leave the... intimacy for when you can god damned afford it," Dom replied sharply. "What's the matter, Ari? Don't think you could stand it?"

"Shut up, Dom," Arthur said.

"I bet he's brilliant at it. He's had lots of practice, hasn't he? I'm surprised he hasn't caught something. You should get yourselves tested! A lot of that shit doesn't have symptoms!" Dom said maliciously, causing Arthur to go rigid.

"Dom-" Ariadne warned.

"Tell me what's so good, Ari! Is he nice to you, does he treat you like a princess? Does he calm himself down so that it isn't over too fast for you?"

Arthur snapped, jumping to his feet and racing at Dom, his hands closing around his throat in a matter of seconds. "If you even knew what I've done, Dom!" he hissed almost snidely.

"Arthur!" Ariadne gasped.

Dom made a guttural, choked sound.

"Huh? Want to know what I've done behind your back? All of it?! Ariadne's just one of the women I've charmed into my bed whilst they were supposed to be yours!" Arthur said quietly and dangerously, right in Dom's ear.

Dom went pale and lashed out of the Point Man, his fist colliding with his mouth with horrifying force. Arthur staggered back, howling in pain and spitting a mouthful of blood into the sand. "What did you say, you son of a bitch?"

Arthur grimaced and wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "It's all about pride with you! What would you say if... I admitted I slept with Mal? In your early days, when I was eighteen years old, when she was twenty. She had a nice body and she wasn't all that serious about you," he said with a malicious sneer.

Fury took over the extractor, betrayal, pain and anguish washing over him like tsunamis, racing through him. "What?" he snapped, trying hard to convince himself he had heard wrong.

Ariadne backed away, watching as Dom and Arthur glared each other down, the younger man spitting blood to the sand. Was that true? Ariadne feared to think that it was. Arthur was bluffing. She knew it. He had to be.

"She was all over me, Dom! It may only have been once, but it was _great,"_ Arthur taunted, making Dom want to be physically sick.

"I'll kill you! I'll KILL you!" Dom hollered and paced towards his oldest friend.

In a moment of bravery, courage and stupidity, Ariadne ran between them, screaming at them to stop. "Please, stop. Please!"

"Ariadne, get out of the way," Dom commanded angrily, towering over the tiny architect. He wasn't beyond shoving her out of the way, everyone knew it, but Ariadne stood her ground.

"No."

"Please, Ari, don't get yourself hurt!" Arthur insisted, resting his hands on her shoulders and finding a second of compassion amongst the anger.

"Get off of me!" she snapped, jerking away from him. "I knew you were a player and I was ready to accept it, but teasing your friend by telling him you banged with his wife? I guess I really did misread you, Arthur! You're disgusting!"

"Ari-"

"Don't call me that! Just go and don't come back! We'll wait for the kick on our own, seeing as we can't look at each other without wanting to rip out each other's throats with our teeth!" Ariadne commanded.

"Ariadne, please!"

"No, Arthur! We need to survive this. Eames is working his ass off and all you guys can do is fight!"

Arthur swallowed hard, pushing his floppy fringe out of his eyes edgily. He wanted to stay and apologise to Ariadne for upsetting her but he knew it was futile. It would just make her angrier with him. So Arthur did what he was worst at in situations like this. He walked away. "I don't want to see you or him until we're back on the plane!" Ariadne told Dom sharply, to which the Extractor gave a sharp nod. He glared after Arthur, making sure he was gone before turning on his heel and stalking away. It took all his composure not to scream.

Only when she was safe from their eyes did she fall to the ground and start to cry.

* * *

"Tea, darling?" came Eames voice as Bridie was huddled over her work, connecting wires and gelatine-like explosives.

Bridie laughed and continued with her work. "You're so brilliantly English! Milk and two sugars," she told him with a grin, not once looking up.

Eames nodded and smiled. "What's that supposed to mean, then?"

"I mean you're such a stereotype! Drinking tea..."

"Fine! I'll have coffee!"

"No, I don't mean it like that! Lighten up, handsome!" she chortled, getting up off of her knees and turning to face him. He was leant up against the frame of the kitchen door, his eyes glittering with mirth.

"I know you didn't, sunshine, I was just bantering. Milk and two sugars, yeah?" he copied with a smile.

"That'd be nice," she replied with a certain twinkle in her eyes.

With a wink, Eames disappeared once more, leaving Bridie to get back to work.

A few minutes later, he was back with two steaming mugs in hand. He set them down on the desk's corner and snuck up behind the oblivious Bridie. He grabbed her by the waist, causing her to jump. "I could have killed us!" she said sharply, holding the partially wired detonator up for him to see.

"What's life without a little risk, beautiful?" he asked in a bemused tone, pulling her to her feet and spinning her to face him.

Bridie felt the same lump in her throat as she yanked the dangerous wires free from the detonator and let them fall to the ground. "I'm working," she said in little more than a murmur, staring down at the ground.

"Come on, beautiful, don't be like that," Eames said softly, putting a finger below her chin and gently coaxing her into meeting his gaze. "You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, you know that?"

Bridie's cheeks flushed red as she lost her way, Tom's look, smell and touch sending her into a daze. "Thanks," she stammered. "For what it's worth, I love your shirts."

Eames chuckled. "And your chest isn't flat at all," he added with his devilish grin.

"My face is up here, Tom!" she told him with a giggle.

"And what a pretty face you have!" he replied with a childish laugh and brought his lips to hers.

_**A/N:**__ I have to know, who's story are you enjoying more? The Arthur/Ari/Dom fiasco or Eames and Bridie and their incessant bickering? Reviews are much appreciated, as is constructive criticism!_


	20. Nineteen

**Nineteen**

"So, whereabouts were you set up?" Eames asked as they walked down the main streets of the city.

"Down here," she replied and pulled him down a small side street. At a boarded up door, she paused and took a step back.

"Do you want me-" Eames began but soon shut up as Bridie kicked the door clean off its hinges, sending up a choking cloud of smoke.

"Good enough, beautiful?" she asked with a smirk, stepping inside and gesturing for him to follow. Eames smiled and tailed her upstairs where she led him into a creaky old room with bare floorboards and walls with peeling paper. "Wait here a sec, I'll get the kit."

Eames nodded and went to the dirty window, looking up at the marvellous city with a spark of wonder in his eyes. He took in the architecture for what may have been minutes, hours or seconds but soon, Bridie shook him out of his trance. She drew level with him at the window, smiling up at his peaceful expression. "How did one girl build all this?" she asked quietly, causing Eames to jump.

He looked down at her and grinned. "I don't know, Ariadne's something special... more importantly, how does one girl blow it up?"

Bridie chuckled. "Your confidence in me is as inspiring as ever, Mr Eames!" she replied.

"I have every confidence in you, sunshine. And don't call me 'mister', it annoys me," Eames told her with a wink.

Bridie had to push her composure to the extremes as she yanked the backpack in her hand onto her shoulder. She'd never encountered a guy that could make her weak in the knees just by looking at her. "I won't be able to build this thing in your safehouse, you know. Not a big enough space. I need space to think and you need space to store your colossal ego," she said with a grin.

Eames chuckled and pulled out his phone, tapping the contacts list and dialling up a let agent. Within minutes of sweet talk and flirtatious jokes with the female agent, he had a whole warehouse for Bridie. "Am I smooth or what, sunshine?"

Bridie giggled and shook her head at him. "You're incorrigible, no woman should be subject to your flirting!"

"Yeah, I can make any girl melt!" he insisted, his arm snaking around her waist and squeezing her playfully.

"Good luck with that, beautiful!" she said with a wink and stepped out of his grasp, racing out of the building without another word.

She wanted him to prove it? Fine. Eames decided he would have her in his arms by the time the sun had set.

"This place isn't all that bad," Ariadne said with a small smile.

Arthur nodded in agreement as they wandered the deserted, dusty streets. It was almost eerie how quiet it was, but Arthur didn't really mind. He squeezed Ariadne's waist gently and sighed. "How long have we been here?"

Ariadne hesitated and thought for a second. "Ten days," she replied evenly, her tone unreadable.

"That means Eames has had less than one day... what could Thomas Eames possibly have done in less than one day?" Arthur wondered aloud, itching his unshaven chin irritably.

"Jeez, you mean for every day Eames uses, we spend almost two weeks here?" Ariadne asked in disbelief.

"Exactly," was Arthur's meek reply as he ruffled his dark hair. It was thicker than it had been in Rio and his chin was coated in a thick layer of stubble. His fingernails were getting too long as well. "Is it just me or is everything growing faster in here?"

Ariadne nodded. "I noticed that too," she replied, tearing at her nails with her teeth. "Maybe our brains are working so fast that everything grows in quicker?"

"Well, I've never been in a dream for ten days. I guess you're right, we'll have to lookout for anything else that's out of the norm," Arthur supplied as the sun glared down on them. He chewed at his own dirty fingernails, noticing his hands were quivering ever so slightly. They came to a stop as they arrived at the beach. Ariadne pulled him down into the sand, curling up next to him and twisting her arms around his thin waist. "You've lost weight," she said quietly, slightly shocked.

"I don't feel like eating," Arthur replied simply and kissed her head.

"That's what happens," came Dom's voice, quiet and calm. Arthur glanced behind him to see the extractor was leaning against the closest building.

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked quietly, her grip on Arthur's waist tightening.

"We've been here for long enough that our brains are already confusing what's real and what's a dream. You don't feel hungry because, in real life, it's been little more than two hours since breakfast. But, here, you're denying your body food and energy, therefore you're losing weight. Had trouble sleeping, yet? Not that you two would do much of that, anyway, seeing as you're so _happy _together," Dom spat venomously.

Arthur bit back a snappy retort and poked at his chest. There was the slight feel of his ribs under his abdomen. He was getting thinner, that was a definite.

"Back off, Dom. You're so bitter..." Ariadne snapped, rubbing her forehead methodically.

"I'm just saying that your bodies are getting fucked up down here. Better grab what you can and leave the... intimacy for when you can god damned afford it," Dom replied sharply. "What's the matter, Ari? Don't think you could stand it?"

"Shut up, Dom," Arthur said.

"I bet he's brilliant at it. He's had lots of practice, hasn't he? I'm surprised he hasn't caught something. You should get yourselves tested! A lot of that shit doesn't have symptoms!" Dom said maliciously, causing Arthur to go rigid.

"Dom-" Ariadne warned.

"Tell me what's so good, Ari! Is he nice to you, does he treat you like a princess? Does he calm himself down so that it isn't over too fast for you?"

Arthur snapped, jumping to his feet and racing at Dom, his hands closing around his throat in a matter of seconds. "If you even knew what I've done, Dom!" he hissed almost snidely.

"Arthur!" Ariadne gasped.

Dom made a guttural, choked sound.

"Huh? Want to know what I've done behind your back? All of it?! Ariadne's just one of the women I've charmed into my bed whilst they were supposed to be yours!" Arthur said quietly and dangerously, right in Dom's ear.

Dom went pale and lashed out of the Point Man, his fist colliding with his mouth with horrifying force. Arthur staggered back, howling in pain and spitting a mouthful of blood into the sand. "What did you say, you son of a bitch?"

Arthur grimaced and wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "It's all about pride with you! What would you say if... I admitted I slept with Mal? In your early days, when I was eighteen years old, when she was twenty. She had a nice body and she wasn't all that serious about you," he said with a malicious sneer.

Fury took over the extractor, betrayal, pain and anguish washing over him like tsunamis, racing through him. "What?" he snapped, trying hard to convince himself he had heard wrong.

Ariadne backed away, watching as Dom and Arthur glared each other down, the younger man spitting blood to the sand. Was that true? Ariadne feared to think that it was. Arthur was bluffing. She knew it. He had to be.

"She was all over me, Dom! It may only have been once, but it was _great,"_ Arthur taunted, making Dom want to be physically sick.

"I'll kill you! I'll KILL you!" Dom hollered and paced towards his oldest friend.

In a moment of bravery, courage and stupidity, Ariadne ran between them, screaming at them to stop. "Please, stop. Please!"

"Ariadne, get out of the way," Dom commanded angrily, towering over the tiny architect. He wasn't beyond shoving her out of the way, everyone knew it, but Ariadne stood her ground.

"No."

"Please, Ari, don't get yourself hurt!" Arthur insisted, resting his hands on her shoulders and finding a second of compassion amongst the anger.

"Get off of me!" she snapped, jerking away from him. "I knew you were a player and I was ready to accept it, but teasing your friend by telling him you banged with his wife? I guess I really did misread you, Arthur! You're disgusting!"

"Ari-"

"Don't call me that! Just go and don't come back! We'll wait for the kick on our own, seeing as we can't look at each other without wanting to rip out each other's throats with our teeth!" Ariadne commanded.

"Ariadne, please!"

"No, Arthur! We need to survive this. Eames is working his ass off and all you guys can do is fight!"

Arthur swallowed hard, pushing his floppy fringe out of his eyes edgily. He wanted to stay and apologise to Ariadne for upsetting her but he knew it was futile. It would just make her angrier with him. So Arthur did what he was worst at in situations like this. He walked away. "I don't want to see you or him until we're back on the plane!" Ariadne told Dom sharply, to which the Extractor gave a sharp nod. He glared after Arthur, making sure he was gone before turning on his heel and stalking away. It took all his composure not to scream.

Only when she was safe from their eyes did she fall to the ground and start to cry.

"Tea, darling?" came Eames voice as Bridie was huddled over her work, connecting wires and gelatine-like explosives.

Bridie laughed and continued with her work. "You're so brilliantly English! Milk and two sugars," she told him with a grin, not once looking up.

Eames nodded and smiled. "What's that supposed to mean, then?"

"I mean you're such a stereotype! Drinking tea..."

"Fine! I'll have coffee!"

"No, I don't mean it like that! Lighten up, handsome!" she chortled, getting up off of her knees and turning to face him. He was leant up against the frame of the kitchen door, his eyes glittering with mirth.

"I know you didn't, sunshine, I was just bantering. Milk and two sugars, yeah?" he copied with a smile.

"That'd be nice," she replied with a certain twinkle in her eyes.

With a wink, Eames disappeared once more, leaving Bridie to get back to work.

A few minutes later, he was back with two steaming mugs in hand. He set them down on the desk's corner and snuck up behind the oblivious Bridie. He grabbed her by the waist, causing her to jump. "I could have killed us!" she said sharply, holding the partially wired detonator up for him to see.

"What's life without a little risk, beautiful?" he asked in a bemused tone, pulling her to her feet and spinning her to face him.

Bridie felt the same lump in her throat as she yanked the dangerous wires free from the detonator and let them fall to the ground. "I'm working," she said in little more than a murmur, staring down at the ground.

"Come on, beautiful, don't be like that," Eames said softly, putting a finger below her chin and gently coaxing her into meeting his gaze. "You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, you know that?"

Bridie's cheeks flushed red as she lost her way, Tom's look, smell and touch sending her into a daze. "Thanks," she stammered. "For what it's worth, I love your shirts."

Eames chuckled. "And your chest isn't flat at all," he added with his devilish grin.

"My face is up here, Tom!" she told him with a giggle.

"And what a pretty face you have!" he replied with a childish laugh and brought his lips to hers.

_**A/N:**__ I have to know, who's story are you enjoying more? The Arthur/Ari/Dom fiasco or Eames and Bridie and their incessant bickering? Reviews are much appreciated, as is constructive criticism!_


	21. Twenty

**Twenty**

It was a mess of skin on skin, tongue on tongue, panting breath and Eames was bloody loving it. He'd never felt so alive and awake, it was like the old days, being hocked up on something or other that could get him put behind bars and just not having a care in the world. That had changed now, he'd been clean for four years but he would always prise freedom so highly and he hadn't noticed until now just how much he'd let it slip away. But now he was clawing it back, one touch at a time.

But it was too good and too thrilling to last, the shrill of a phone caused Eames to tear his lips away from Bridie's for a second. His steady pant intoxicated her as he pressed the device to his ear, mentally cursing whoever was calling. "Hey," he breathed into the receiver as Bridie's lips caressed his cheek, sending his heart sky rocketing.

"Hi, Eames!" came Yusuf's ever cheery voice.

"Yusuf," the younger man greeted, having to force the word out as the woman before him sent shivers down his spine.

"It's getting late, I was just wondering when you were coming back," Yusuf answered.

_I think a text would have sufficed _Eames thought sourly as Bridie kissed his neck, causing his to jump violently. "I... er..." he stammered and pulled his phone from his ear, pressing the microphone into his t-shirt so that it wouldn't pick up what he said next. "Are you trying to distract me?"

Bridie giggled, her slender fingers tickling his nape. "It's funny, for once I'm not the stuttering, flustered mess!" she told him as she made him writhe, her fingers leaving blazing pink trails on his skin.

Eames was right, he was a mess. She was just kissing him, why was he so... unsettled? Calls of his name came from the phone as he tried to calm himself down. As soon as he was as calm as he could be, the phone was back at his ear. "Soon, I promise," he told Yusuf, slightly breathless.

"Alright... are you okay? You sound a little... on edge," Yusuf said hesitantly.

Eames closed his eyes and tried to repress the feel of Bridie's teasing, her lips hardly leaving the crook of his neck. He swallowed hard. "Yeah, fine," he forced out, his voice going a little squeaky and then he hung up, no longer able to maintain his composure. "Darling..." he murmured, losing himself in her bemused blue eyes.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asked quietly, her fingers knotting together behind his neck.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Eames replied with a smile and pulled her close, closing the space between their lips once more as twilight set in upon the magnificent city.

* * *

The quiet was unnerving and Dom was losing it. He heard every rotation of the ceiling fan, every thrumming noise of the water tank, every hum of the washing machine. He could even hear the fly beating incessantly against the window, like it thought it could budge a sheet of glass. Unable to look at the cracked paint of the ceiling any longer, he sat up in bed and rubbed his puffy eyes, a sense of emptiness and horror scrapping at his stomach. His pillow was damp. He'd been crying again. "What a surprise," he muttered. He was always crying, whether he was aware or not.

After an ice cold shower, the gaunt extractor pulled on baggy sweat pants and a t-shirt advertising a band he hated with all his might. It was a stupid band and he got the t-shirt years ago in college to impress a girl that he really did not remember the name of. He'd kept it as a reminder of his idiotic desperation, not to mention it was fine to wear in bed.

As he wandered through the small, horrifically quiet flat, his blond hair was flopping forward into his eyes, centimetres longer than it had been yesterday. The rapid growth was pissing him off. So he cut it. Badly. Some parts were long, others were short. He'd clipped his ear badly and soon it was covered in crusty blood. But, as was aforementioned, he didn't care in the slightest.

He wasn't hungry. He never was anymore. When he pulled aside his t-shirt, his ribs were visible. He could count them without bother, without poking at his chest. And, as he sat on the sofa, flicking through the pages of a new novel he'd randomly picked up he found himself wondering what was happening with Eames. Not to mention with Yusuf. But most of all, for possibly the thousandth time in the last few days, he wondered what Ariadne was doing.

She'd yelled at Arthur. A lot. Berated him for the lies he told. Scolded him for the accusations he so falsely made. Dom refused to believe his words, he knew Arthur so well, too well for his liking. Arthur was just trying to get a reaction. And bloody hell had he got one.

Not one punch did the extractor regret. Not one kick or one insult, one snide comment or one sneer. The little shit deserved it. Dom wished Arthur had contracted something over his disgusting antics. He wished Arthur would die of it. At the very least, he wanted Arthur to be so undesirable and disease ridden that Ariadne would leave him.

There was a part of Dom that loved Ariadne and so badly wanted to forgive her. But he knew that his more dominant side had ripped that to shreds. Ariadne hated him now, he was sure. Dom didn't know how many times he'd made his Point Man bleed in the last few days, but he knew Ariadne slipped further beyond his grasp with every drop he drew.

How he envied the Point Man. He had an easy time with women. He just had to say their name and they all but melted. Dom knew why, of course. Both men had height, muscle and stunning good looks, but there was a dark allure about the Point that was like the apple on the Tree of Knowledge. Any woman knew in their gut that he wasn't good news, that he'd land them in some sort of trouble, but hell was he desirable. More often than not, they would give in. Arthur would have someone to keep him warm through the night and once more, Dom would be left staring at the ceiling, the other side of the bed unbearably empty and cold.

In Arthur's darker days, when he was at his very worst, there was a time that Dom feared he may have surpassed Eames, which was saying _a lot, _as Eames had a new girl on his arm every night. Dom had feared for him, worried over him like a little brother. He was convinced Arthur would step on the wrong toes and he'd end up in hospital. Now, Dom was more than happy to carry out the deed himself.

* * *

"Tough night, Eames?" came Yusuf's voice as he stepped out onto the porch, taking in the rugged Forger that had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Eames took a long draw and blew out a large cloud of smoke with a sigh. "You could say that... why do you ask?"

Yusuf snorted and leaned against the wall. "I haven't seen you smoke since the Nicholson job... and that was four years ago," he replied.

Eames chuckled and sucked in hard, the soothing chemicals calming him. "This doesn't count. It's a dream, this crap won't hurt me," he muttered.

"Why do you need it tonight?"

"Because," Eames said, trying to pull up an explanation that didn't make him sound like a lunatic. "I can't really explain. Girls _never _have this effect on me. I could have the Swedish Beach Volleyball team cooing over me and I'd just be me, I'd just be a player. But... _she _just has to say my bloody nameand I'm a total mess."

Yusuf smirked. "I knew it would happen one day."

Eames' head snapped up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"Thomas Eames is _head over heels," _Yusuf said.

The forger looked shocked. "No, I'm not in love. I've known her for a few days, for Christ's sake!"

"Love has no boundaries, Eames. Even a few days can make a difference. Even you, a man who lives for the cheapest of pleasures can be tainted by love," Yusuf replied evenly.

"You're speaking shit."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. Why else would you let a woman take your attention away from Arthur?" Yusuf reasoned in a bemused tone. "It happens to the best of us, mate. No need to be ashamed."

"It doesn't happen to _me, _okay? I'm not in love, as you seem to have convinced yourself. I'm Tom Eames, I do not fall in love," Eames insisted sharply, stamping out his cigarette with his foot and going back inside.

* * *

"Ari, please... Talk to me," Arthur murmured after the tone and then hung up, sliding his phone into his pocket with a groan. As he paced the dirt streets, he wondered how many messages he'd left her, how desperate he sounded, but he really didn't care. He needed to speak to her.

He looked up at the building they'd shared and pressed the key on the gate. "I really need to talk to you, please. I'm begging."

"What have you got to say?" came her voice.

Arthur jumped and turned around, seeing her metres behind him, hands in her pockets. "Well?" she prompted, her face hard and set.

"Ariadne, I'm so sorry, I was just so mad-" Arthur gushed, running his hand through his hair anxiously.

She cut him off, shaking her head slightly. "That's no excuse, Arthur. I was prepared to accept that, yeah, you did a lot of stupid things when you were younger. But I can't believe you'd do that to Dom. It disgusts me," Ariadne reprimanded, glaring at him solemnly.

"I know it was cruel of me and you have no idea how much I regret saying it!" Arthur insisted urgently, so wanting Ariadne to forgive him.

"Do you regret saying it or do you regret me hearing it?" she asked harshly, almost spitting the words. Arthur's only answer is his silence. "I thought so, get out of the way."

Ariadne pushed past Arthur and opened the gate with her key. She was only stopped when Arthur took a gentle hold of her wrist. "Ariadne, please forgive me!" he pleaded.

"Do you want to know what I regret, Arthur? Us. That's what I regret. Seriously, I get that I am a lot to blame in this but where are _your fucking boundaries? _Why is it that hot guys think they can treat everyone like crap? You think just because you're handsome it's your god given right to fuck whoever you want, regardless of the circumstances!" she shrilled, yanking her wrist from Arthur's grasp.

Her words infuriated Arthur, who was losing his composure with every passing second. "That's not me, Ari! You know it isn't!" he insisted, his eyes brimming with tears and his throat getting tight.

"Yeah, well, it sure looks that way, Arthur! Dom's right, you need to get yourself tested. Who knows what you've picked up from whoring around?" she said harshly and disappeared inside, leaving Arthur to sulk.

As the tears fell free, gut wrenching sobs racked Arthur's lean body. "What the fuck have I done?" he whimpered as he leaned back against the wall, ripping at his hair in anguish. "What have I done?"

_**A/N:**__ I know it's overdue, guys, but I was at a music festival this weekend. Twenty chapters! Wow! I'd really like to know who your favourite pairing is and if you could tell me what you think in a review, that would be amazing! DFTBA! S xxx_


	22. Twenty One

**Twenty-One**

There was a knock at the door and Dom sighed, shoving himself off of the sofa and meandering towards the entrance. He opened up without thinking and just about froze when he saw Ariadne. "Hey," he forced out, his face draining of colour.

"Hi," she replied quietly, pushing her hair out of her eyes with a sense of awkwardness.

Dom cleared his throat and stepped aside. "Come on in," he breathed, refusing to meet her gaze as she sidled by. "How... How are you?" he stammered as he kicked the door closed and led her into the small studio area that worked as living room, dining room and had a kitchenette in the far corner.

"I'm great, thanks. You?" she said with a forced smile, flopping down on the sofa.

Dom sat down on the armchair opposite her and took her in. "Yeah, good, thanks. You're looking thin," he pointed out uneasily, meeting her brown eyes.

"So do you. So does Arthur," she answered.

Dom jumped violently at Arthur's mention. So she still thought about him. A lot. "You've seen him?" he asked, slightly colder than he'd intended.

"Yeah, he came by my place. He's so _thin _and haunted. He has his fair share of demons too, you know," Ariadne muttered, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

"I don't feel bad for him. He lied about sleeping with Mal, why should I?" Dom asked sourly, ruffling his edgily chopped hair angrily.

Ariadne looked taken aback as she sat up, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. "You think he was lying?" she asked quietly, not sure herself.

"Mal wouldn't," Dom replied evenly and confidently.

"But Arthur would. And we both know Arthur is..." Ariadne supplied.

"Irresistible. I know."

An icy silence followed in which Dom got more and more uncertain of his predicament. He was so sure of Mal. But, in their early days, when their relationship was casual and non-committal, a young man who looked and acted like god's gift would find no guilt in messing around with his mentor's date.

"I didn't mean it like that. I mean he has no boundaries," Ariadne insisted quietly.

Dom nodded, which caused Ariadne to become frustrated.

"I'm sorry, Dom. For everything. It's only now when I've fucked everything up that I realise he really wasn't worth it," Ariadne stammered angrily, ripping at her hair in frustration.

Dom sighed and leaned back in his chair. "What about the tattoo?" he asked quietly, wanting with everything in him to accept her apology but knowing that he shouldn't.

"He was drunk! He was with Eames! What the hell else can we expect?" Ariadne pointed out.

The extractor nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry, Ariadne, I've been so horrible to you. Arthur... Relapse has changed him, and not for the better. I should have seen it coming, I shouldn't have gotten so angry. And you... we're all human. You and I, we weren't all that serious, and you made a mistake. Will you forgive me, Ari? All those horrible things I said?"

A small smile tugged at the edges of Ariadne's lips, her eyes glittering with tears. She got up and walked over to Dom, kneeling down before him and taking his hands in hers. "Of course I do, Dom. I'm _so _sorry."

"It's okay, Ari," Dom said, squeezing her hands as he stood up, pulling her with him. He wrapped his arms around the tiny architect, holding her gently as he felt her tears soak through his t-shirt.

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, feeling so warm and safe in his arms. He gave her a sense of security that Arthur so lacked.

Their piece was shattered by the ring of a doorbell.

And there was only one other occupant of Limbo.

* * *

For Eames, life was becoming blurry and hazy. He'd never been in a dream for so long and the borders between dream and reality were all but lost in the fog that clouded his mind. His poker chip lay forgotten in his room and a heavy weight sat on his heart, which throbbed uncontrollably at the very sight of one certain woman.

"I did it!" Bridie said excitedly on their fifth day in the city. She was growing increasingly worried and guilty as five days translated at sixty with Arthur, mere days short of two months. It had taken a long time, but Bridie finally had a colossal bomb that she hoped was capable of bringing down a dream layer.

"Did what?" Eames asked in an absent minded fashion from his chair, his head lolling in one hand. When his eyes met hers, he felt horribly dizzy. _What's happening to me?_ He wondered wearily.

"The bomb, Einstein!" she replied with a giggle, kneeling before him and taking his hands in hers. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, nasty head cold, that's all," he said with a smile, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead.

She shot him an incredulous glance. How was such a thing feasible? "I didn't know that was possible," she answered and craned her neck to kiss him.

"Nah, I don't want to pass it on, sweetie," Eames insisted, leaning away from her reach.

"If you're so ill, why can you speak so clearly?" she asked, a sly grin playing at the corners of her lips. "Shouldn't you be sniffing or something?"

Eames chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose, so desperately wishing she would leave the topic. His head hurt like hell and he wasn't sure why, not to mention he didn't know if his heart could handle a kiss. Just Bridie's proximity was making it beat incredibly quickly and erratically. "So observant," he muttered with a chuckle.

She giggled and craned her neck to kiss him ever so gently. Her effect was immediate and Eames had no hope of escape. His resolve shattered as he deepened their kiss, caressing her cheek so lightly it was ticklish.

Eames' hands had worked their way down to her waist when someone cleared their throat. The forger reluctantly tore himself away from Bridie to look to the figure in the doorway. "Yusuf," he said breathlessly, his cheeks flushing red.

Bridie giggled and caressed Eames' face gently before making to pack the tangle of explosives in the corner of the room into boxes and bags.

"Sorry, Eames, but I just wanted to check how Bridie was doing with the bomb," Yusuf replied uneasily, his face going pink as he dodged the Forger's irritated gaze.

Bridie smiled kindly. "I finished it, Yusuf. No need to apologise, Tom was just trying out his luck!" she told him, causing him to chuckle. "What now?" she asked, turning back to Eames.

Eames met her gaze, a dazed smile crossing his lips as he got lost in her eyes, forgetting everything. He wasn't even sure what this bomb was for, anymore.

"We plant it," Yusuf replied simply at Eames' failure to respond. _Told you so, _he mentally berated the forger, who seemed too love struck to comprehend their words.

Bridie laughed. "Seems like a logical step!" she commented.

"Where?" Eames asked absently.

"I have ten separate bombs that'll be detonated by one device," Bridie said.

"And I've mapped out the city and calculated where we need to put them for this to work," Yusuf added.

"This will destroy the entire city?" the forger questioned.

Bridie nodded.

"And kill us?"

"Exactly," Yusuf answered.

As the Chemist and the bomb specialist went on to discuss their plans, Eames tried his hardest to conceal his shock. To the forger, this had become real life and it sounded as though the people before him were proposing suicide. It had escaped him that such a feat as destroying a city with a bomb that took less than a week to build was impossible and now Eames was terrified.

But he had a plan of action. Eames always did.

* * *

"Dom, I'm _so _sorry," Arthur gushed when Dom opened the front door.

Dom was taken aback as he looked down on the skinny Point Man. Arthur was gaunt and had bruise-like shadows under his eyes and it soon became clear he was suffering the most. He looked like it had been days since he'd slept and his tight t-shirt exposed a sickeningly thin waist. His ribs remained well covered by muscle but it was obvious Arthur wasn't taking this prolonged dreaming experience well. "I don't want to hear it," he replied briskly and wearily. "I don't like this post-relapse you. You used to be so calm and collected, now you just spout a heap of shit and come grovelling, expecting us to forgive you."

Arthur swallowed hard and scratched at his badly shaven chin. There were plenty razor blade scars on his face and Dom was honestly surprised he could wield a razor in his current physical state. "You have to cut me some slack, man. This still hurts, my head is still a shit hole from relapse. It sounds low, but if you went through what I did, if you woke up one morning and James and Philippa weren't real and Mal was never your wife, don't you think you'd try to _make _it real?" Arthur asked sharply. "I'm apologising for it all, Dom. Everything. But I also want you to accept that I'm in love with Ariadne and I want to be with her."

Ariadne froze in the living room, her blood running cold at the sound of Arthur's words. Had she made a mistake in falling for Arthur? Or was the real mistake coming back to Dom?

"She's furious at you... for all those lies you told. For rubbing your fantasies in my face," Dom said quietly. He could almost hear Ariadne's mind ticking in the living room around the corner.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up at Dom's words. He thought Arthur was lying and no way in hell would he correct him. "I know and I've been a downright asshole. But I think I can make it up to her, I really hope I can. I just want you to be okay with it. I don't want to fight with you for as long as I'm with her," he said quietly, looking up at Dom from under his lashes with that look he had about him when he knew he'd messed up. He looked like a scolded puppy and everyone he'd ever used it on hated it about him, because it truly was irresistible.

Dom gulped loudly, tapping his feet anxiously as he thought.

"I love her, Dom, I really do, but I'd never go against you again. All you have to do is say no and I'll steer clear of her, I promise," Arthur pleaded, his heart throbbing in his chest.

The extractor couldn't meet Arthur's gaze for fear of breaking down into tears. It was really only just hitting home to him what was going on. Arthur wasn't a spoilt womanizer as he'd so callously thought. He was in love with her and men did stupid things when they fell in love. Dom knew this all too well. "Can I please just... think about it?" he asked edgily, his face as white as paper.

Arthur nodded solemnly. "See you," he murmured before turning on his heel and disappearing.

No sooner had Arthur left than a distraught Ariadne pushed past Dom. Where she was going remained a mystery, but Dom knew all too well that she was seriously reconsidering her decision.

_**A/N:**__ Please let me know what you think about this one with a review! I also apologise if this chapter is not quite up to scratch, staying up till 2am to watch Andy Murray win his first grand slam is tiring stuff! The man makes me proud to be Scottish :D I'd love to know what you think about Ariadne in particular. I'm not sure if I'm being true to her character or not. S xxxx_


	23. Twenty Two

**Twenty Two**

Limbo was becoming unbearable for the young Architect. She was too young, too inexperienced for the strain of such a long dream. Two months. She hadn't seen something real in two months. Even the people, even her own body was an illusion and it was screwing with her head.

Now she had Dom and Arthur to cope with. Arthur loved her and he'd even told Dom he wouldn't pursue her if it meant that much to him. To Ariadne, that displayed loyalty, strength and an impulse to do the right thing. The post Relapse Arthur always did the right thing in the end. But she'd seen his dark side. She'd seen him gloat and scream. She'd seen him fight like he had just hopped out of the MMA cages she saw on TV. He seemed to have too much experience and his torso was so marred that it scared her. Remnants of bullet wounds, knife slashes and DIY stitches, that was all she saw when Arthur was shirtless. It would come as no surprise to her if he couldn't even remember how he acquired them.

Dom, on the other hand, seemed to utilise his charm and charisma in the situations that his younger colleague would simply initiate a brawl. Arthur was arrogant and sullen. His self control was close to flawless, very few things could get him going. But when he wanted a fight, a thing he genuinely seemed to enjoy, he was fast and strong. Dom, who was pushing thirty, had never really possessed Arthur's talent to deal a swift knock out. He relied on his golden tongue. He could often deliver an elegant conclusion to an argument. He wasn't quite so controlled as Arthur but he was far more eloquent.

Ariadne had no doubt that they were both caring and protective but they were both severely flawed. Dom loved to control and Arthur was never one to turn down a good fight. She could see how Eames had influenced his little brother.

She sighed as she produced her flat keys, letting herself in and tumbling down onto the sofa, irate and weary. It was unbearably empty without Arthur and his warm, comforting embrace. It often occurred to her just how secretive he was. She knew nothing of him, except he was from New Jersey and spoke with a distinctive twang when he was particularly shy and bashful, something she'd only ever encountered when they were alone.

One thing she'd always wondered about was Arthur and Eames' back story. She knew they were like mischievous children when they got together and the two often spoke about how they'd be locked up for life should the police ever catch up with them. But what exactly amounted to a life sentence? Their years in extraction? Their stupid antics? Murder?

She shivered at that but knew in her gut that there was no way she could be sure the duo weren't above it.

For the first time in around a week, Ariadne felt a pang of hunger, quickly followed by a bout of drowsiness. It seemed that the dream was finally catching up and straightening out as her finger nails were only marginally longer. "Good," she murmured, putting a frozen pizza in the oven and getting into her pyjamas. As she wandered back through to the kitchen, her phone buzzed from the countertop. One new message. She opened it, knowing it would probably be Arthur but was surprised to see Dom's name displayed. "So Arthur has kept true to his promise," she murmured as she read. It quite simply asked: _Are you ok?_

_I suppose_, was her reply.

* * *

"Bridie! C'mon, get dressed, beautiful. We're leaving," Eames murmured in his darling's ear as he knelt by her bedside.

"What?" she whispered groggily, her peaceful face scrunching up as she squinted through the dark bedroom.

"We're going, sweetheart," Eames answered softly, kissing the tip of her nose.

A muffled giggle escaped her lips but then she seemed to snap out of it when she comprehended his words. "Where? Why?" she questioned worriedly, her eyes going wide with concern as she took in the Forger's withered form.

"I'll explain on the way, darling," he replied and gently pulled her out of bed, setting her down on her feet beside him. "I'll give you a minute, yeah?" he offered and kissed her on the cheek before exiting the room and waiting in the hallway.

Bridie tried to clear her head as she swapped her pyjamas for jeans and a t-shirt. What was he talking about? Why was she up at two AM? "Eames, what's this about?" she murmured wearily as she opened the door.

The forger took her hand in his and pulled her downstairs and out the front door, producing his car keys. "I promise I'll explain in a minute," he said in her ear.

"Why is it that you always have to force me to get into a car with you?" she wondered aloud with a smile as he opened the door for her.

"Because it thrills you," he replied as she got in. He closed the door behind her and got in the driver's seat.

"Don't flatter yourself, handsome," she retorted with a grin.

Eames just winked and started the engine, pulling away from the curb silently in the depths of the night.

There was a second of edgy silence in which Bridie truly woke up and remembered the oddness of the situation. "Care to explain?" she said in a serious tone.

Eames bit down hard on his lip as he drove. Where did he want to go? He didn't even know about the name of the city, let alone its location. "I just couldn't go through with it. I couldn't let you either," he stammered, feeling a sting as he bit too hard.

"What are you talking about?" Bridie questioned, distraught.

"I... I just couldn't do it, okay? I couldn't kill you or me!" he answered.

"You've never done it before?"

Eames threw her a bewildered glance. "Would I be standing here if I had?" he asked with a snort.

"You've lost me, darling," she said with a weary sigh, rubbing at her eyes.

"How? Is it really that complicated that I didn't want to commit suicide and that I couldn't live without you?" he snapped, his patience draining and his heart growing heavier.

"Eames..." Bridie muttered, finally grasping the situation.

"Yes?"

"Where are your poker chips?" she asked sharply.

Eames' brow furrowed with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Bridie sighed heavily, her patience fast running out. "Your totem! A simple, elegant way of keeping track of reality, don't you remember telling me this?" she asked worriedly, her throat tightening.

The forger's eyebrows shot up, memories of his unique red poker chips that multiplied in a dream coming back. "No, I don't. What are you trying to say?" he prompted as the city thinned. They were nearing the outskirts.

"I'm trying to say we're dreaming, you stupid son of a bitch!" she all but wept. "We're going to blow up this level and deliver a kick for Arthur and the others. Do you remember Arthur? The New Jersey kid, slightly younger than me, dark hair and eyes, you call him your brother!"

"Arthur..." Eames repeated, a wave of pain and fear washing over him. "Is he okay?"

"No, he's been in Limbo for two months, Eames! Can we please just go back so you can check your totem?" she said eagerly.

Eames sighed heavily and stopped the car, getting out to breath the night air and wake up. He looked down the deserted suburban street lined with houses and large gardens. He leaned against the car and pulled out his cigarettes, putting one in his mouth and lighting up.

He knew of this. He knew that shock could cause a person to lose their grip on reality. But what shock had he undergone in the last few days? Arthur had died before in jobs, there was nothing new about that.

"Eames!" came Bridie's scream.

Before Eames could act, two figures emerged from one of the houses, clad in black and wielding guns. The bullets started flying and Eames dropped to the ground, clamping his hand down on his hip and felt his horror rise when he found there was no gun. No sooner had he discovered that he was unarmed than Bridie was at his side. She pulled him furiously into the shadow of a house and shoved him up against the wall as a bullet struck the car, the place they'd stood in seconds ago.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she questioned angrily, pulling a heavy black hand gun from her waistband and edging towards the corner of the house.

She heard footsteps and scuffling. Her training kicked in and she slowed he breathing right down so that it was inaudible. Her gun was loaded and ready to fire.

Suddenly, one man jumped around the corner, his bullets coming so close Bridie felt sick.

She spun and aimed at his upper thigh.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The man screamed and fell to the ground, leaving Bridie to kick his gun towards a bewildered Eames. She counted. Three shots she'd taken. She had more than enough to take down the other man. She rounded the corner and dodged behind a well trimmed shrub, squinting in the dark with only a dull streetlamp to help.

Then he spotted her and bullets rained down, the flashes alerting Bridie where he was.

A bullet ripped through her calf and she cried out, white hot pain spreading like wild fire through her body as she fell.

Out of the corner of her tear-clogged eye she saw a blurry figure round the corner, wielding the first thug's glock. His counting of the thug's clip was impeccable, as no sooner had he appeared than the thug's gun gave a click, his ammunition clip empty.

Two shots and the thug dropped to the ground, his hands clamped over his stomach, wailing in agony.

Bridie looked up to see Eames toss his gun across the yard. He crumpled to his knees beside her and removed his t-shirt, tying it painfully tightly around her calf and above her wound. Numbness spread as the blood supply to her leg lightened and she smiled up at him.

That's when her relief turned to sickening horror. Eames' torso was slick with blood and there was a black mark over his heart. He was going white and his eyes betrayed his agony. Without a whimper, he toppled sideways and Bridie caught him before his head collided with the ground.

"No, no, no," she muttered as she cradled his head in her lap.

Only when he was dying and he could all but feel Limbo and Arthur and Ariadne had Eames realised exactly what had caused him to lose his way. He'd fallen in love.

"No, please, Eames! We need you! _I_ need you!" Bridie whimpered as she pressed down hard on the wound. The flow of blood was lightening but Bridie had seen too many wounds like this to know it was not in a good way. He was running out of blood and there was nothing she could do. This was exactly how her sister had died and, even if this was all a dream, she couldn't stand to see Eames in such pain.

"See you on the plane, sweetheart," he murmured weakly.

Bridie pressed her lips to his as he slipped away. Soon, he was still, his eyes closed and his chest immobile. She sobbed profusely, her body shaking as she cradled his corpse. "He's okay, he's with Arthur," she repeated to herself.

But he'd still felt the pain. He'd still had a bullet driven through his heart. She'd still witnessed his agony. Pain was in the mind and it was currently rotting Bridie's.

_**A/N:** I'm sorry! Things have been hectic recently, birthday parties to go to, homework to finish. I'd love to know what you think so please leave a review! Tired as hell, guys, so there might not be an update tomorrow! S xxxx_


	24. Twenty Three

**Twenty Three**

Ariadne pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she padded groggily towards the window. It was seven AM and she was already bored out of her mind. With a sharp tug, she pulled the curtains aside and contented herself with staring out the window for a minute or two, the warm air soothing her puffy eyes.

She gasped when she spotted a figure strewn out on the sand. A fourth person to join them in hell. It had to be Eames or Yusuf and she knew in an instant that the inception had failed. Her heart leapt to her throat. They were going to prison. And Arthur and Eames would never get out.

As she looked closer, she tried to make out who it was. It was almost immediately obvious. Tall, tanned, broad shouldered and muscular.

"Eames," she whispered.

As quick as a flash, Ariadne had her sneakers on. She raced to the elevator, her heart pounding in her chest. How long would she be locked up for? What would her parents say? What could she make of her life afterwards? It was fast becoming clear that she'd made mistake after mistake and that this was all her fault. It felt like there was a lead weight in her stomach. "Stupid bitch," she reprimanded herself as she exited the building and went straight to the beach.

"Eames!" she cried as she ran down the sand, her too large pyjamas whipping around her.

The man looked around and his deep blue eyes met Ariadne's chocolate brown ones. He was, without a doubt, Thomas Eames. "Hello, darling," he called to confirm what she already knew.

"Why the hell are you here?" she snapped as she fell to his side, taking in his soaking black zip hoody and clinging blue jeans. There was a red stain on his jeans waistband. A blood red one.

"Only got myself shot, sweetheart! You never truly appreciate what pain is until you get a bullet through your heart, you know?" he said with a chortle.

She couldn't believe his light nature, his shocking ease. He was looking at life in jail and he was having fun. Oh perhaps he was hysterical? "Stop laughing! You've messed up inception, you know that?" she said shrilly.

Eames snorted. "This job was a trap, Ari. Yusuf and my woman are busy trying to crack us out of here!" he replied as he pulled the bottom of his hoody and t-shirt up. There was a thin but long gash just above his navel. "Bloody coral," he muttered.

Ariadne's eyebrows shot up at the sight of one particular tattoo that was just next to his hip. She tried to concentrate on it and ignore Eames' horrifically marred and wounded abdomen which was worse than Arthur's. Perhaps it was part of his allure as the bad boy who wasn't afraid to get hurt, but it just scared her. So did his tattoos. The one that had caught her attention was beautiful despite it's frightening irremovable nature. It was simple, 'darling' in black ink, the font calligraphic. The g's tail curling around a red dice with white spots. It screamed Arthur.

"What do you mean, it was a trap?" she asked, trying to repress her bewilderment at the tattoo. Eames had a tattoo for his brother, so what?

Eames sighed and brushed his floppy hair out of his eyes. He explained everything that they'd found out, the whole shebang, knowing he'd have to retell the tale to Dom and Arthur later. Ariadne grew more and more shocked and horrified as he spoke, ignoring the dull sting in his throat that came from ingesting so much acidic seawater.

She could see that he really needed a shower, fresh clothes, a meal, a sleep, medical attention. So she decided not to press it or ask her questions and instead move on to something she knew would make him smile. "You said you had a woman," she told him with a twinkle in her eyes.

Eames lit up at the mention of Bridie. It had been less than ten minutes since he'd last seen her and he already missed her. "Yeah... Bridie. She's something special, darling, a right sweetheart. And pretty... well, she's bloody gorgeous! She just makes my heart go. Juliet to my Romeo, Rose to my Jack, Cathy to my Heathcliff and all that bullshit... Ariadne to my Arthur!" he told her with a cheeky grin.

Ariadne had smiled and giggled as the clearly besotted Forger had prattled on about this Bridie girl. He was a sweetheart but at Arthur's mention, Ariadne froze, which Eames didn't like one bit. His boyish smile dissipated to make way for a scowl, pictures of all the stupid things Arthur could have said or done popping up like wildfire. "What's the arsehole told you?" he asked sourly, all humour draining from his voice.

She straightened up and used her sleeve to press at the cut above Eames navel, as she really didn't want to meet his eye or answer his question. It stopped bleeding in a minute and Ariadne made a mental note to clean it when they got back. But she was running out of stalling material and Eames' eyes were boring into her like he could see inside her head. "He went off the rails," she finally said, almost too quiet to hear. "Dom was being an asshole, saying horrible things and Arthur couldn't take it. He lost it and started yelling about how he'd screwed Mal behind Dom's back five years ago... I knew he was a player, that he used to sleep around, bedding everyone that was willing. And I was ready to accept it, heck, I've done stupid things too. But it was when he started rubbing it in Dom's face that he lost my respect... is it true? What he said, I mean."

Eames' face went dark as he stood and offered Ariadne his hand. He so wanted to deny it, to say Arthur was making stuff up to annoy Dom, but he couldn't lie to Ariadne. She was deep in the mess that was his brother's mind and if she didn't know the full truth, there would be trouble later. "It is," he admitted with a sigh. "He was an idiot back then, Ariadne. And you have to understand that that Arthur you saw yelling at Dom... he isn't the _real _Arthur. I think this relapse thing has resurfaced the old, selfish Arthur. Let me ask you, does he seem different to when you first met him?"

Ariadne took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She thought about this for a second and realised the Forger's words rung true to her on so many levels, filling her with anger and pain. "Yeah, he's short tempered, inconsiderate, selfish, mean, arrogant... I just thought I'd completely misread him," she told him as they started to walk back up the beach.

"No, you didn't. You have the old Arthur down to a tee, the Arthur relapse has pulled back. Think about the nice Arthur, the pure one that you fell in love with," Eames insisted, running a hand through his soaking hair.

Ariadne sighed and linked her arm through Eames'. He was such a darling, so kind to her. She remembered how, upon meeting him, she'd really liked him straight away. She had never been attracted to him, even if he was storybook gorgeous. But he had a dangerous allure about him that was accentuated by his rugged appearance. He was like a teenage dirt bag that never truly grew up, not her type. She much preferred Arthur's clean cut appearance and reassuring words. Instead she loved Eames like a brother or a best friend. She could see why Arthur admired him so. "He was good. Beautiful, inside and out. Pure, honest, organised, kind, loving, funny..." she trailed off, the memory of the loveable stick in the mud that needed to let loose bringing a smile to her lips. "Eames, do you think we'll ever get him back?"

Eames repressed a smile and mentally gloated. He'd restored her faith in Arthur in ten minutes, a thing his brother couldn't have accomplished in days. "We can only hope, sweetie, we can only hope."

* * *

"Traitor."

Bridie's head snapped up from Eames' body, her eyes finding the gunman who'd spoke. Perhaps gurgled was the more appropriate term. "What did you say?" she snapped angrily, glaring daggers at him.

"I called you a traitor, 'cause that's what you are. You're Eames' pet, his lapdog. He's just using you, you know, to get Arevalo and his crew out of limbo," the man replied with a sneer, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Shut up," she commanded.

He grinned sadistically, his teeth coated in blood. It was nightmarish to Bridie, seeing a man in so much pain enjoy such a moment as this. "It's the truth, Miss Grant! Or should I call you Mrs Eames?"

"You're disgusting," she spat and pulled out her phone.

"Do you think he'll stick by you after this? Think he'll treat you right? Nathan Eames is notorious, he's a womanizing bastard. He'll chew you up and spit you out like yesterday's leftovers, darling. He gets bored of all his women in the end!" the man jeered, spitting blood to the ground.

Bridie's brow furrowed in confusion, the threats bouncing off her. She knew Eames wouldn't do that, she knew him too well. "What did you call him?" she asked sourly.

"Nathan Thomas Eames, that's his real name! Wow, if you didn't know that, he obviously isn't all that in to you!" the thug sneered.

Bridie ignored his taunts and phoned Yusuf, her emotions turning off as she returned to her professional mindset. "Hey, Yusuf. I need you to come get me. I'm at Benedict Avenue, just off the highway... no, he's dead. Yeah, I'm fine, we just need to do this as fast as we can, we've only got two days. Oh, and we'd better keep his body, we finally have a link to Limbo."

_**A/N:**__ Please leave a review, they're much appreciated and I'd love to know what you think! I forgot to say last night, Happy 35th Birthday to Tom Hardy! Here's to many more years of you being the greatest actor of our generation! Threw in a little Wuthering Heights reference there, as I loved his TV adaption so much. I'm a crafty sod, aren't I? Not really... S xxxxx_


	25. Twenty Four

**Twenty Four**

Limbo was driving the extractor to breaking point. It was so quiet he could hear a fly in the next room, so lonely he found he spoke to himself, so eerie he was scared of every shadow.

His only company was his haunting memories. So many mistakes. So many idiotic things he'd said. He'd had two months to think about his treatment of Arthur and quite frankly he was horrified with himself. Arthur was his best and oldest friend, how could he have been so callous about him?

He'd called him names, slandered his behaviour and past, even accused him of atrocities that he would never commit. It was horrible, really, to know Dom had been like that to a man who had done nothing but support him through the toughest, lowest points of his life.

Arthur was a kind soul but, in the moment, his ability to love had taken over his judgement. Dom knew all too well that when you fell in love, other people's feelings didn't matter. Ariadne didn't love Dom, she'd never treated him the way she treated Arthur. That's why Dom had to let her go. Because there would come a point in the Architect's life that she would realise just how perfect she was for Arthur. Dom had already denied Arthur of a perfect lover once in this lifetime, he wouldn't do it again.

And, with a sigh, he remembered that day. Seven years ago when Arthur first began dream sharing at seventeen years of age. It remained the hardest job Dom had ever attempted, let alone completed. The history Eames and Arthur shared was having a devastating effect on the team. Something had to be done and, to this day, he still felt like he had destroyed a part of the Point Man and the Forger. Even Dom found himself getting lost between what was real and what was a lie these days. They worked better together now, that was a certain, but they lacked their old dynamics that made sparks fly. And now they lived fake lives, had different identities to keep him safe from those they'd hurt and annoyed, those who still sought vengeance. With a shudder, he saw Lindsey, blue eyes glittering, white teeth shining in his shark-like grin. Malicious. Murderous. Lindsey Cooper was a force to be reckoned with.

And poor Arthur... the lies he'd spoon fed the Point Man. That Dom found him studying psychology at Miles' university. Dom knew better than anybody that Arthur was so knowledgeable on the subject that he wouldn't even benefit from a PhD. His name, too, that denied him his inheritance and right to access his parents and brother.

Dom pulled out his phone. He'd made up his mind. He would not endanger Arthur's happiness again.

He dialled Arthur's number and waited for him to pick up. Three rings passed and then came Arthur's croaky sleep voice. "Hello?" he murmured in little more than a whisper.

"Hey, Arthur. It's Dom," Dom began edgily, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to ease the sense of foreboding.

"Dom, it's 7am... can't this wait?" Arthur groaned.

Dom sighed. _No, it can't. I don't want to back out now. _"I'm sorry, bro. For everything. I just wanted to say... you have my permission," the extractor uttered, ignoring the dull pain in his heart.

That woke up Arthur. "What?" he asked in a bewildered tone. There was a scuffle as the Point Man sat up in bed, his sheets staying behind like a dust mark in cartoons.

Dom repressed a chuckle at Arthur's speedy reaction. Arthur and love had never been an advisable combination. "I'm saying you and Ari have my permission. I don't want to be the bad guy..." he said, mentally adding _again._

There was a second of crackly silence as Arthur got to grasps with what he was saying. "Are you serious?" he asked. Dom could almost tell he was grinning like a psychopath.

"Of course I am," the extractor replied, the pain lightening at the thought of Arthur being happy at last.

There was another second of silence as the surprise and astonishment ebbed to make way for elation. "Dom... You have no idea how much that means to me!"

"No problem, bro. It's about time you knew what real happiness feels like," Dom admitted.

"Dom?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, man. You're my best friend and I am so sorry for everything," Arthur gushed, his throat growing tighter.

Dom allowed himself a chuckle. "I love you too, man. And there's nothing to be sorry for, guys do crazy things when they fall in love," he replied with a grin.

They said their goodbyes and Dom hung up, the smile vanishing almost immediately as he did. Images of Lindsey again. It had been seven years since Cobb had last seen him but he was still fresh in the extractor's mind. Cooper was brutal and dangerous and had made himself known as the man Dom feared most.

* * *

"C'mon, darling, keep up," Eames said with a grin, pulling his damp hoody straight and reaching back for Ariadne's hand.

She took it gratefully and squeezed, feeling elated to have Eames. He was funny and kind and wasn't fighting over her like a wild animal, which was more than could be said for the other men in her life. This Bridie girl was very lucky indeed. "How has life been treating you?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, good enough. Took us five days to sort out our bomb that's going to kick us out of here," he explained.

Ariadne's eyebrows went up. "Five days? We've been here two months," she told him with a grimace.

"Yeah, we're sorry about that. But composing a bomb that can destroy your marvellous city is no easy job, even for Bridie," he admitted, casting her an apologetic glance.

"Don't worry, we understand," she assured him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Eames smiled. "Thanks, darling. How's stuff been down here?"

Ariadne sighed and used her free hand to flatten a few loose hairs. "A bloody nightmare, darling," she replied, doing a bad impersonation of his accent to lighten her words.

The forger snorted, "You need a dialect coach, that was crap!" he told her, mimicking her accent flawlessly. "And try being an Englishman putting on a Nova Scotia accent, talk about a challenge."

"Yeah, well, I create dreamscapes for a living, I'm not an actress," she pointed out with a smile.

"Quit avoiding my question."

"Fine! In all honesty, crap. That's how it's been going. Arthur is... not himself. And neither is Dom. They're just so angry and..." Ariadne muttered.

"Testosterone-y?" Eames offered with a grin.

"Exactly," she said. "I think it's just with us being here for so long, it's driving them crazy, me too."

Eames chuckled as Ariadne opened her apartment building front door. They wandered across the deserted reception area and pressed the up key on the elevator pad. "They're not angry, just jealous of the other. You know by now that they both think you're _the _girl for them and they don't like the attention the other guy is receiving. Arthur and Dom are incredibly deep and pretentious, they read between the lines like they're freaking women! And they get weirdly jealous. My advice, choose one already. Before they get bored."

"So blunt!" she remarked with a grin as the elevator doors opened. They stepped in, Ariadne pressing the appropriate button. "It's not that easy, Eames. I can't choose without hurting and losing someone."

"Hey, with every choice, something is gained and something is lost! I don't know who said it but it sounds like the gold that would come out of my mouth, so the guy was obviously pretty smart," he told her. "Seriously, Ari, before our lives turn into _every single bad rom-com you've ever seen, _choose. And before you say it, it is that easy. Who's nicer? Who loves you the most? Who makes you laugh more? Who's the better kisser?"

Ariadne sighed. Eames was right. Simplistic and blunt, but right. The elevator doors slid open and Ariadne quickly looked away. Arthur was leant up against her apartment door. His jaw went slack at the sight of Eames. "Tom?"

* * *

"Do we start planting now? Or do you want to wait for the morning?" Yusuf asked Bridie as they pulled up in front of the safe house.

Bridie looked down at her blood soaked clothes and the gaping wound in her leg, which was horribly numb. Eames' shirt had worked brilliantly and she couldn't be more grateful for his gesture. "I don't feel up for it right now. If I get a sleep, I'll be able to work really quick tomorrow," she told Yusuf.

He nodded kindly and placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's alright, Bridie. This is a dream and if we can do this, you two will be back together before you know it," he reassured her, to which she nodded and sniffed. "I'll sort out your leg and then you can catch a few winks, okay?"

Bridie smiled and climbed out of the car, leaning against the side and looking up and down the street. Deserted and bathed in the moon's ghostly light, it looked like a scene from a horror film. But the only atrocity on the street was the gaping hole in Bridie's chest. "Do you want help with..." she trailed off, finding it impossible to say the words.

"No, it's okay. I'll get him, you just go inside and I'll fix you up when I'm done."

She nodded and hobbled up the pathway to the house. Normally, she would insist. But Eames' body wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to help carry. She sat down in the living room and inspected her calf. It was just a dull ache now, the limb had taken a blue hue as it was starved from blood. It didn't look good. She wasn't a doctor but when something went blue, she thought it was time to stop strangling it. So she untied the t-shirt, whimpering and moaning as the blood surged through her leg, renewing the pain of a bullet wound. Her eyes were watering as she pressed the already soaked t-shirt down on the wound. It was bleeding through in seconds but she kept at it.

After horrible scuffles and thumps, Yusuf was through in the living room, his bag underarm. He turned on the main light and knelt before the bomb expert, pulling out bandages, syringes and pills. He started work on her leg, injecting local anaesthesia into her calf and playing deftly with bandages and compresses. The pain went from agony to intense to the feel of a strong growing pain as the drugs worked their magic and Yusuf did his bit. "Thanks," she murmured as he worked. She wiped her running nose on the back of her hand and choked back a whimper and a whine. It was just a flesh wound, the bullet had ripped open her leg but had not strayed near the bone or important ligaments. But the greatest pain of all was the pain of knowing she'd let this happen twice now. Two times had she watched someone she so dearly loved collapse before her, their lifeblood draining like water running down a plughole. First Kath, now Tom. It was the sense of hopelessness, knowing you couldn't do a god damned thing to save them, that was the worst.

As Yusuf bandaged her leg to the best of his brilliant abilities, Bridie knew in her heart that she'd failed them both. She could have done so much more both times.

And now it was her parents' turn. They would die next in the horrific game Bridie's life had become. They couldn't outrun Cobol on their own and how was she supposed to get to Ireland before her opponents? Her enemies? One phone call and she could get them running, she knew that. But how was she supposed to know she could survive the chaos that would descend on the plane?

The truth was just becoming clear. If she survived, her parents were dead. If she didn't live, there was no guarantee they would. And what of Eames, the sweet, rugged Forger she'd fallen head over heels for? Would his next death be the real thing?

_**A/N:**__ I really hope you enjoyed! Sorry about the less regular updates, you can blame my chronic procrastinating for that! Please let me know what you think via the review button! S xxxxx_


	26. Twenty Five

**Twenty Five**

"Art," Eames murmured, bounding forward and pulling Arthur into his arms. "Jesus Christ, where's the rest of you? Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?"

The sight of the two men in such a tight embrace brought a wide smile to Ariadne's lips. She stood by the elevator and fiddled idly with her pyjamas, not wanting them to think she was invading their privacy.

"I'm sorry, I just..." Arthur trailed off as he pressed his head into the crook of Eames' neck. "I've missed you so much, man. Don't ever let this happen again, okay?"

Eames laughed, his throat growing tighter. "Never. Never in a million years," he assured him, stepping back and glancing down at Arthur's horrifically slender waist. "Are you okay? You're so... _thin."_

Arthur sniffed and self consciously crossed her arms over his stomach. "Yeah, I'm fine," he insisted.

" Hunger doesn't work the same way down here," Ariadne told Eames, coming to Arthur's aid. "Some people straighten out quicker than others. I took a few weeks to straighten out, Dom too."

Eames nodded at Ari and then turned back to Arthur. "And you?"

"I... I've just been choking down the odd slice of bread," Arthur admitted shamefully, refusing to meet Eames' persistent gaze.

"So you've been eating the bare minimum for two months?"

Arthur's reply was a meek nod, causing Eames to sigh. "Why didn't you just... eat?"

The Point Man shuddered at memories of trying to force food down, knowing that he had to take care of himself. "Because it feels disgusting. To not be hungry but to try and eat a full meal three times a day. It just comes back up," he answered.

Eames just shook his head angrily. "This is all my fault. If I'd been there-"

"No, Eames, you were just doing your job. Don't pin this on yourself," Ariadne insisted quietly.

Arthur threw her an apologetic glance and found she wouldn't look at him. "Ari's right," he said, catching her attention. Her head snapped up, her startled eyes finding the Point Man's. "This isn't your fault."

"What I don't get is why you started screaming at me when I pointed that gun at my head two months ago," Ariadne pointed out, a sour undertone in her voice.

Arthur's jaw tightened at that.

"We've never done this before, darling. And everyone who has ends up crazy. Our best bet to ensure we don't go deeper is to use a kick, throw ourselves off a big building. This technology is only eight years old, we know fuck all, no matter how much we pretend," Eames told her, rubbing his forehead.

"But Dom and Saito and Mal-"

"We can't know for sure that that'll work again and, quite frankly, I'd rather wait for the safer option. You know as well as us how temperamental dreams are. You might have to be here for a certain amount of time, there might have to be no other dream levels above you... we really have no fricking idea. We're just playing safe, Ari. We'll get out of here, I promise," Arthur assured her. He reached out towards her and faltered as she recoiled. He sighed and covered his tracks by ruffling his hair, but he knew Eames was too observant to miss that.

Eames would have joked, snorted or even smirked but he sensed the situation was just too serious. "That's an interesting theory, actually. Perhaps a bullet would work if there was no open levels above you... you know, not as deep, easier to pull yourself out..."

"Want to stay and test it out?!" Arthur asked incredulously.

"No, sir."

"Let's call Dom, get him over here. You need to tell them what you told me," Ariadne said to the Forger.

* * *

"Bridie, we have two days... we need to get moving," Yusuf warned, his head pressed against the closed door.

"Just give me a second!" Bridie snapped angrily. The world seemed bigger, scarier from down here, she thought as she ran her finger tips over the carpet. She regretted her words instantly, ripping at her hair in anger. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she called awkwardly, feeling blood rush to her cheeks.

Yusuf was quiet but she heard his receding footsteps. Tensions were running high in the safe house as Bridie struggled to cope with new developments. It was midday and she'd spent the morning staring absently at Eames' spot on the sofa, his _Wallace & Gromit_ mug on the draining board next to the sink. She was angry at herself for being so absent and weak but she could hardly bring herself to do much else as painkillers were making her woozy.

She walked with a limp and her light head was making her clumsy, but Bridie's raw determination was still there. "I have to do this," she muttered. "I have to save him."

Then she forced herself to her feet. She pulled her t-shirt straight, ran her hands through her knotted hair and rubbed at her puffy eyes. Muttering encouragements, she went downstairs.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just want this over with. I want out of here," she answered dryly, going through to the kitchen to get a snack.

Yusuf sighed and followed. "It's just driving. If we're fast enough, we could be done by midnight."

She nodded and choked down a bite of an energy bar. She hated them with all her might but it helped clear the fog in her mind. "Let's go."

Yusuf nodded. "You go out and make a van, I'll get the..."

Bridie didn't want to hear anymore. She finished her snack and went outside. With a bat of her lids, the car was a white van with a comfortable interior and great air conditioning. She jumped in and turned it up full blast as the heat was yet to fully calm down.

There was a thump from the back and then Yusuf climbed into the passenger's seat. "Is your head clear enough to drive?"

Bridie nodded sharply, no longer wanting to be subject to his questioning. She turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb, an overwhelming sense of homesickness setting in. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

* * *

"Come on in," Arthur said, opening the apartment door wide for Dom when he arrived.

Dom had to admit he was a little surprised when he found Arthur there. How smooth was the Point Man, getting back into Ari's with a few hours' work? But when the door opened, all his sane thoughts scarpered as he laid eyes on Eames. A lump rose in his throat as he took in the laid back Forger who was smoking a cigarette like this was no big deal. "Why the hell are you here?" he demanded as he paced forward.

Eames grinned at Dom's hysterics, deciding to play with him a little longer. To Dom, this meant failure, jail and his kids being taken away and Eames wanted to prolong those feelings, just for his own sadistic pleasure. He deserved this one laugh, he figured, after all the hard work the last five days had contained. "Bullet to the heart, wasn't much I could do!"

"So what you're telling me is you screwed up? When the team depended on you?"

Eames lips contorted into his shark like grin that had been absent for so long. A flicker of something crossed Dom's eyes but he couldn't quite tell what.

That grin sent a shiver down the Extractor's spine. Too familiar, too horrible. Too like Lindsey for comfort. He shook it off, reminding himself of what had happened. "Well?"

The Forger decided the game was up as he caught Ariadne's disapproving look. "Sorry, Dom. I can explain. Just calm down and take a seat. You too, Arty," he said, letting his grin slip.

They all sat down in Ariadne's little living area, Eames' hands curling around the mug of tea the Architect had supplied him with. As he spoke, he watched his friends' hard faces soften, their jaws going slack, their cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Arthur in particular looked defeated. He'd never felt so stupid in his life, how had he not realised? "All my fault..." he muttered in anguish.

"No," Dom said. "It wasn't. You were fresh out of Relapse, I shouldn't have put so much pressure on you."

"Me too. I knew I shouldn't have let you do this," Eames seconded.

"And I shouldn't have distracted you," Ariadne supplied.

"But it still all comes back to me and my own weakness at the time. If it wasn't for this brain damage I have, if it wasn't for Relapse..." Arthur said angrily.

Dom looked shock. "Brain damage?" he asked.

Arthur swallowed hard, he'd forgotten that they'd kept their theory strictly between Eames, Yusuf and himself. "Yeah..." he replied awkwardly, unsure of how to explain.

Eames decided to help out immediately. "We have this theory that because dream sharing incapacitates your ability to dream normally and because Arthur started as a Point Man when he was eighteen, before his brain was fully formed, those parts of his brain didn't have the chance to form properly before they were frozen. Those parts are then vulnerable and due to the strength of the sedative we used on the Fischer job, they rebooted themselves, putting Arthur into Relapse," he explained patiently.

"That's implausible, it's just a sleeping sedative, it doesn't go near those parts of your brain," Dom replied.

"Got a better theory?"

That made him freeze. His mind ticked audibly as he thought, his lids closing as sparks of ideas flashed across his mind's eye. An oddity he hadn't followed up on, the backup sedative from the Fischer job that didn't quite add up. He started speaking almost too fast for the others to understand. "Yusuf told me in Paris that he'd give the flight attendant a backup sedative in the unlikely event that mine got confiscated. I saw the attendant pushing a white pill up her sleeve as we boarded. Then, in LA international, I saw Yusuf put a clear bottle in the trash. I looked down when I passed and the bottle was marked _backup _and the pill inside was black, exactly like the one he gave me."

Ariadne listened intently, coming to terms with his words much faster than Eames and Arthur. "There was a third pill?"

Dom nodded grimly, his head in his hands. "I'm such an asshole-"

"What are you saying?" Arthur asked hysterically, his face going a sickening white.

Eames butted in, finally catching up. "He's saying the third pill was a weird one that could have been for anything."

"How did that water on the plane taste, Arthur?" Ariadne asked urgently, taking his hand in hers.

Arthur, startled by the gesture, found himself tripping over his words. "I... er... not exactly like water, I guess."

Dom picked up again, words spilling out of his mouth as they came to him. "That pill was for you. You are the main player in the team. How do you capture a castle? You crumble the keep. They weakened you, that pill triggered your Relapse, made you vulnerable. They fed you false information, led you to believe that our target and our mission was real. You didn't pick up on it like you normally would because they messed you up, the strongest person in the team. If the world's best Point Man didn't pick up on the fakeries, what hope did we have?"

With his mind officially blown, Arthur ducked his head, staring at Ariadne's hands over his. "Holy shit..." he muttered.

A flicker of bemusement passed over Eames' face as he realised there were too many flaws in the plan. "Well Cobol didn't bank on something. They didn't realise I would survive. And they certainly didn't realise I could crack Bridie Grant."

_**A/N:**__ I seriously cannot believe that this is Ch25 and that the end is drawing nearer! There will be a sequel (of that I am sure) in which you will learn about Arthur, Eames and Lindsey Cooper. To the guest reviewer on Ch24, on the off chance that you are still reading, I'd like to say thank you very much for your honest feedback. I hope this chapter has answered some of your questions and I'm sorry that you think some things aren't quite up to scratch. I'm not perfect, not even close, and I love this site because I can write about a film I love, improve my abilities and get awesome feedback all in one. So thank you very much, but I don't really appreciate you hating on my fellow authors and on slash fiction... which rocks. Sexuality is amazingly complex, don't be mean to those brave enough to explore the possibilities! DFTBA, guys! S xxxxx_


	27. Twenty Six

**Twenty Six**

"How much longer do you think we have left down here?" Dom asked Eames later.

"About two and a half weeks maximum, mate," Eames replied after a second of thought. "Maybe six days minimum."

Dom nodded wearily. "I need a little fresh air, give me a shout if anything changes."

After a few bleak goodbyes, Dom had left. Eames downed the dregs of his tea and washed the mug out to make Ariadne's life a little easier.

"Eames... What did you say the girl was called?" Arthur asked quietly, a headache gearing up as he slowly came to terms with what Cobb and Eames had told him. He still didn't understand why Cobol would try to screw them over like this, they owed Arthur a massive portion of their success.

Eames blinked. "Bridie," he replied. "She says she met you in Rio."

A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. "Her? Oh, she was a sweetheart."

Ariadne flinched, surprised by the fire in her stomach such a simple statement ignited. She'd never been the envious type. She looked to Arthur, hoping he hadn't seen and was relieved to discover he hadn't. Eames, however, was casting her sly glances, like he'd seen more than he should. "Anyone I should be jealous of?" she asked jokingly, hoping to keep the tone light.

Arthur looked taken aback. "I didn't know you gave a crap," he said sourly before he could stop himself. The Architect looked at the floor, her cheeks going a violent red.

Eames sighed apprehensively and shoved himself up off of the sofa. "I'm going for a nap. Mind if I let myself into yours, darling?" he asked Arthur.

The Point Man nodded solemnly, ignoring the shame he felt for being so tough on Ariadne. "The bed's mine, take the couch," he heeded, passing his brother a slip of paper that contained his address.

"Didn't think you'd need the bed tonight, sunshine," Eames said, his shark's grin setting his eyes alight as he receded towards the door. With a wink, he was gone, his chuckle drifting ominously behind him.

There was a second of awkward silence as the two youngsters of the team listened to Eames' fading laughter. Part of Arthur was glad to have him back, the other part wasn't quite so thrilled.

He thought about his words and his irritation, his cheeks going pink with shame the more he thought. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that... I'll go," Arthur mumbled, getting to his feet.

Suddenly, Ariadne laid a hand on his bony waist, causing him to flinch. "No... I'm sorry. I said a lot of crap the other day, stuff I shouldn't have said and I'm really sorry. I didn't mean a single word," she assured him softly, standing beside him.

"You called me a diseased whore," Arthur pointed out flatly, almost mean and angry.

"I didn't mean it, any of it. I was mad, mad at you and Dom fighting, mad at myself for not controlling the situation," Ariadne whispered.

"You told me you regretted _us, _Ari. You said to my _face _exactly what you thought of me, that just because I'm easy on the eyes I automatically think I can have sex with anyone and everyone, regardless of circumstances and consequences. And I am genuinely disgusted that I give off that impression. I had my reasons, I didn't just make out with you 'cause you had a pretty face, a nice body," he snapped angrily.

Ariadne rubbed at her eyes, not caring that she now had mascara smeared over the backs of her hands. "What, then? Did you just want to fuck with Dom? Payback for him getting Mal?"

That infuriated the Point Man. "You think this is about Mal? A god damned one night stand? Some vendetta against Dom?"

"Please enlighten me."

Arthur made a sound of frustration, pacing to the kitchenette and getting a glass of water. Ariadne waited patiently as he downed half of it in one gulp and rubbed angrily at his forehead. Now calmer, he turned around and leaned on the counter, his eyes finding Ariadne's in the bright light of the day. "I've said it before, Ari. Don't you remember? I've been so sure about this since the first time I laid eyes on you. I know you might think the at-first-sight thing is bullshit, heck, three months ago I did to. Then it happened and I don't have a speck of doubt in my mind."

A lump raised in Ariadne's throat as she pushed her hair out of her eyes, her teeth clamping down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. She'd always been very aware of her unsubtle nature and her difficulty with reading between the lines but this brought it to new levels. "Arthur... please. You promised Dom, you said you'd back off if he wanted you to."

"But he doesn't, Ari. He told me that himself. Can't we just put all this crap behind us? Start again? I'm yet to take you on an actual date."

Ariadne smiled at that. "You said you had reasons. I want to hear you say the words. I want to know you're not going to let anything like this happen again," she said quietly, her gaze falling to the floor.

Arthur stepped forward so that he was inches from her, gently placing a finger under her chin and pulling her head up to meet his gaze. With an adorable smile, the Point Man's lips parted and uttered the phrase he'd applied so sparingly he could count his usage on one hand. A phrase that really didn't suit his demeanour and personality unless he absolutely meant it. "I love you."

"And I love you."

With that, the space between their lips closed and Arthur had no time to feel victorious. She robbed him of his breath like no other woman had before her and, for once, the sensation was a pleasure rather than an inconvenience for the controlling Point Man.

"We're plain messed up, you know that?" he whispered, causing her to giggle.

* * *

"We need to hurry if we're going to be done by midnight. You seriously think we can go all through the city in twelve hours?" Bridie asked as she pulled up outside the warehouse, her professionalism taking control. She opened the van door and went inside with Yusuf at her heels, going to the largest of the spaces where there was a tangle of explosives in the corner.

Bridie and Yusuf began casing up the individual bombs, each about a cubed foot big. "If we're fast. We'll aim for a bomb every hour, which is fairly manageable, I think," Yusuf replied as he snapped the lid closed on the third bomb.

Bridie worked quickly, casing the explosives and setting them aside in brilliant time. "Depends how crappy the traffic is," she pointed out, causing Yusuf to shrug.

"Fingers crossed," was all he said.

With the bombs cased and the disabled detonator in Bridie's pocket, the duo started loading their devices into the van. "That detonator will take about five minutes to assemble and I'll be doing it on top of whatever building we choose. We've only got one shot and I sure as hell don't want any nasty accidents," she said in a monotone as she hefted the last case into the van.

Yusuf slammed the door shut when she was clear, his face set. "I don't really like the idea of having to wait five minutes for a job that could be done in advance," he replied.

"You'd rather be blown sky high and stuck in limbo till you don't know that up is up and down is down?" she asked irritably.

Yusuf grimaced at the thought. "If anything goes wrong tonight regarding that detonator, I'm blaming you."

"No problem... just don't question me again," she instructed him before climbing into the van's cab.

With a slight shake of his head, Yusuf got into the passenger's seat. Tom had his work cut out. This one was a firecracker.

* * *

"I leave you for half a fricking hour and you've already cleared out the fridge?" Arthur asked in bewilderment as he searched the contents of his kitchen.

Eames snorted as he put his head round the door. "Not like you were going to eat it and I have the good sense to take care of myself. Thought you were busy getting laid, anyway?"

Arthur grimaced. "If there's one thing I haven't missed about you, it's that. Unlike you, my life doesn't revolve around finding another girl to screw. How's that Bridie chick dealt with you for a week, anyway?" he asked sourly, finding a bag of crisps in the cupboards. He wasn't hungry but he could tell by his emaciated body that he needed to eat.

The older brother chortled and came into the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards and shelves to pull together a decent enough meal for Arthur. "Nah, she's something special, mate. I haven't even tried to get her into bed yet. It's not often that I come across a girl I actually want to treat right, you know?" Eames murmured as he put the food he found on the counter. "I want you to eat it all, you look like I could snap you in half with two fingers."

"Are you for real?" Arthur asked mockingly after choking down a mouthful of crisps. "Tom Eames the lady killer actually wants a woman for more than a shag?"

The forger grinned, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and downing a few gulps. "You're one to talk, Mr New-Lady-Every-Night," he remarked.

"No... I think Ari might be the real deal," Arthur insisted, a vacant smile lighting up his eyes. "I haven't been actually _in love _with a girl since my Freshman year and even then it was puppy love. I hate to say it but I've really let my standards slip, I've been objectifying these countless women that I use and then toss aside. But Ariadne..."

Eames would have mocked him, poked fun at his googly eyes, his slack jaw, but the truth was Eames was proud. That bastard of a guy he'd known for the past while was backing off, making way for his real brother. "I'm proud of you, you know that? Sure, pissing off Cobb wasn't a good move but you knew what, or rather who you wanted and you didn't let anybody get in your way. I have taught you well, grasshopper."

Arthur laughed and finished off the crisps, swiftly moving on to a packet of Oreos. "This actually doesn't feel that bad," he muttered through a mouthful of half chewed biscuit.

The forger rolled his eyes and forcibly shut Arthur's mouth. "Well, it ain't pretty from this end. Didn't Mummy ever tell you to chew with your mouth closed?"

"Rich coming from you!" Arthur retorted with a snarky grin after he'd swallowed. "Seriously, I think Limbo's catching up with me..."

"About bloody time."

_**A/N:**__ I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll try and update on Saturday but don't hold your breath. Stay awesome, lovely readers, and don't be shy to drop a review :) S xxxx_


	28. Twenty Seven

**Twenty Seven**

"Six down, four to go, eight PM... not bad considering we had rush hour to contend with," Bridie remarked blankly as Yusuf drove through the city. He'd demanded on taking the wheel when she continued to pop painkillers like they were sweets and her driving got reckless. They really couldn't afford for anything to go wrong now.

Yusuf nodded, his foot edging down on the accelerator. "Bridie... are you okay?"

The girl's throat tightened suddenly. She gulped hard and Yusuf saw the way her face drained of any colour that remained. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Yusuf was shy for a second, pulling a cigarette from the console between their seat and driving with one hand whilst he lit up and rolled down a window. How had Eames put it that night that felt like months ago? It was a dream, smoking wouldn't hurt him. That bullet had, though. Yusuf knew pain was a thing inflicted by the mind and he could tell by the look in Bridie's eyes that Eames had suffered badly. "You watched him die," he replied softly.

Bridie was silent for a second, her chest rising and falling like it carried a ton of bricks. "He was silent, you know that? I'm no expert but a bullet through the heart can't be a very pleasurable experience... in some ways, that made it worse," she murmured.

Yusuf sighed sadly. "It's okay, you can tell me. Tom would never forgive me if I handed you back in this state," he admitted.

The edges of her mouth tweaked into a slight smile. "He was quiet for me and if I'd just have shot the thug quicker, he wouldn't have had to suffer like that," she muttered sadly, drawing her knees up to her chest and picking at her bandages.

Yusuf nodded and there was an odd silence, somewhere between companionable and awkward. "Just when I thought I'd worked you out," he said dryly to break it.

"Hm?"

"I thought I'd finally figured you out to be some tough nut that can just lock up all the bad feelings. But you're impossible. At one point, I see a guilty ex sailor with a talent for trouble. Then, ten seconds later, you're the scared little girl that just wants to go home," Yusuf admitted.

Bridie sniffed. "Yeah..." was all she could say.

* * *

_Dom, when the time is right, they'll remember. Trust me, please._

That had been her words, the last words Mal and Dom spoke on that particular subject. The extractor was still guilty, still angry at himself for what he'd done.

But what he found odd was that even he sometimes believed in the fakeries. There were days when he didn't know better than the grins his Forger and his Point Man exchanged, than the laughs they had as nothing more than loving brothers. There were times when that was all they were to Dom.

And now, as Arthur set his sights on Ariadne, Dom realised exactly how stupid he had been. When Mal's work faded, and it certainly would, someone, if not everyone would walk away with their heart slashed in two. For now, Dom could not tell who, but he knew it would happen.

And if anything should trigger a collapse, from something as small as a picture or as large as a person from their past, a heart wrenching process of realisation and decisions would unfold far earlier than it had to. Mal had said it should hold out until they were both into their thirties and by that point they would hopefully have been with their respective partners long enough to stay put, but it was a world of uncertainties. This technique had never been used before and Eames and Arthur were as much of guinea pigs as victims. And it wasn't just their own relationship that had been fabricated over, it was their memories of home, of their families, friends, enemies even.

What was the last words Arthur and Dom had shared regarding his brother?

_"It's been six years since I last spoke to him. He hates me, calls me a criminal, says he'll never get over the shame he feels knowing what I do."_

Arthur could not be more wrong.

* * *

Eames was lonely again. He flicked idly through the stack of DVDs in Arthur's apartment, putting random discs into the tray and sighing as he settled down to their favourites. It wasn't the same without the Point Man at his side, though, there to be his punch bag in the dull parts, there to laugh at the ridiculous gags when it was needed. Movies was something Eames best enjoyed with company and he was all out of that. Five and a freaking half days. That was how long he'd been here.

Bridie had left a gaping hole in his chest and Arthur's sudden (well, more impulsive) obsession with the Architect left Eames stranded in his pyjamas, strewn out on the sofa and scoffing down comfort food. He reasoned it was to keep his body going but he really knew he just wanted the solace, the warmth of crappy junk food in his mouth and stomach.

There was a bang at the front door. "How nice of you to grace me with your presence, darling brother!" Eames drawled loudly and dryly, wanting Arthur to feel guilt.

There were hesitant footsteps and then a meek voice. "Tom?" it called. And it was certainly not Arthur.

* * *

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Bridie muttered incessantly as they pulled up at the ninth spot on the map, a small park. She jumped out, pulling the second last case with her and dodged into a clump of trees, stashing the explosive in a hollow trunk. She all but sprinted back to the van. She sighed anxiously as Yusuf's foot slammed down on the gas.

Eleven PM. They'd done well, extremely well. Twelve hours of city driving, dodging obnoxious cab drivers and swarms of people. Now was the time for the very heart of the colossal city. A massive skyscraper who's antennae scraped the clouds themselves. A structure that wouldn't exist, couldn't exist in the real world. That's why Bridie loved it so much. She could not wait to meet this Ariadne, they sounded very alike.

It was as they neared the city centre that Bridie got a tingling sensation on the nape of her neck. She glanced sharply out of the window but saw nothing. Just the bustle of traffic and crowds as the city's bars and clubs came to life. "I don't like this," she muttered quietly.

"The faster we are, the better," Yusuf replied in agreement, turning into the skyscraper's car park. He took the space closest to the building's entrance and hustled out of the cab. Bridie followed, going into the back of the van and slipping the final case into a rucksack and grabbing a hefty machine gun, ignoring the body bag that lay feet away. Yusuf heaved it onto his shoulder and shut the van doors behind them. "Christ, I've never felt so vile in my life."

"He isn't real, Yusuf, it's just a trick," she told him, "Ready?" she asked as they came to the building's doors.

With a swift nod, Bridie walked in at an almost leisurely pace, the gun making her arm ache. There was a shout as receptionists and concierges took note of the machine gun in Bridie's capable hands. She let off a string of bullets on the chandelier, just so they knew she meant business. The glass fell like rain to the floor as she smirked at the terrified workers. "Which one of you fine people can escort me and my friends to the rooftop? I can use this baby, so please don't be _too _shy."

A slim young boy, no older than twenty, was shoved forward, his teeth chattering and knees knocking. "I'll... eh... show you up there," he offered meekly.

"Kid, you deserve a medal. Come on then, I haven't really got the time or patience to hang around," she replied and followed as he scurried off to the elevator. He showed them in and got in after, pressing the topmost button on the scale.

Yusuf sighed, the crippling weight of Eames and his bulk making his shoulder ache and burn. "Security's going to be all over us, you know that?"

"What do you think I am, stupid?" she quipped, slinging the gun over her shoulder and pulling out two pieces if the detonator, connecting them with her nimble fingers as the lift rose. She added a third and fourth but noted they'd almost arrived, stuffing away the detonator so that she could be on guard. The doors opened with a pleasant ring of a bell and Bridie took up her gun once more, placing it's barrel directly between the kid's shoulder blades as he escorted them out into a small, cold room. There was one door set into the cold panelled walls opposite the elevator and it was heavy duty.

Bridie's breath was catching in her throat. They were high, very high, and she was struggling to breathe. "C'mon, Yusu-" she began.

There was a gunshot and she let out a cry, glancing round to see a thug in the corner, his gun smoking. The shot had missed her head by inches, she'd felt it whistle past her ear. She grabbed the projection and swung him in front of her, using him as a human shield as she hustled with her own gun.

Bang.

Her shield let out a scream as she fumbled with the catches one handed on her own gun. She was sprayed with blood as the bullet ripped through his shoulder, narrowly missing hers.

Just as her own clip was ready, he fired a third shot and Yusuf collapsed with little more than a groan, a perfect headshot leaving it's mark. Bridie shoved away the screaming projection and shot numerous bullets at the thug's feet. This was one of the real life Cobol thugs, she sure as hell didn't want him in Limbo with the others.

With her shaking hands, the bullets missed completely but had the man jump to the side, the unstable moment causing him to wobble. With that, Bridie barrelled out of the room and out into the freezing, choking sky, her breath knocked clean out of her. She was dressed for the stifling city, not the freezing clouds. They loomed only about fifty metres above her and she could feel her t-shirt and shorts growing damp. Thinking fast, she pressed against the wall around the corner from the door to the roof. Her rucksack was heavy on her shoulders, a steady burn setting in. She needed to do this fast.

She felt the building shake under her, the ground tilting to a horrible left angle. "Crap, crap, crap," she muttered, taking a firm hold of the light attached to the wall and feeling her feet slip on the slick tile flooring. They couldn't be in DC already... but the steep tilt suggested otherwise. Either that or they'd landed somewhere else.

Her feet were slipping as if she were on ice and, with a grunt, she swung a leg over the corner of the wall. The machine gun slipped and fell, landing with a clatter on the protective railing around the rooftop. She hastily shoved herself up so that she was safe in the wall that was pitched at a very weird angle. "Hey, sweetheart," came a disgusting drawl as the thug cocked his gun. He stood at a slant, metres away and almost invisible in the suffocating darkness.

Bang, bang, bang. Bridie ducked quickly and speared forwards, knocking the man clean off his feet. He fell like a tree and she was on top of him, landing a hard blow on his jaw and grappling for the gun.

What he lacked in speed he made up for in strength and sheer brutality. He pulled a fist free and punched her hard in the stomach, shoving her crumpled form off him and stretching for the weapon that lay just feet out of reach.

But Bridie recovered quickly, straddling him and pulling his black tie around his neck, winding it so tightly he was choking in seconds. She relinquished her grasp and dove forwards, seizing the gun whilst he spluttered and coughed.

A sharp change in gravity had her lose her grip on the gun in order to save her own life. The weapon fell and she was left hanging onto the door handle for dear life.

"Not fast enough," she heard the thug quip. Then a foot came out of nowhere, slamming hard into her nose and sending her spiralling back. She fell in a heap on the safety railing, her arms coiled over her face as she hollered in agony. Her nose was crooked and her mouth gushing with blood. She spat angrily at the ground and looked around desperately as the thug approached.

As he launched himself at her, she dove for the forgotten machine gun, letting a clip loose on his lower body. He screamed and howled, landing on her with little more than a whine.

With a grunt, she shoved him away, bringing her forearm across her eyes to clear away the blood. The detonator was heavy in her pocket as she struggled to pull herself up the slope that was now the roof of the skyscraper. The door that led to the bodies of Eames and Yusuf and the boy was so close. After what felt like hours of grappling and crawling, she was at the door. An almighty shove later, she was in. She let herself relax in the fractionally warmer room, her skin icy and white. A steady pant had formed in her chest as she pulled out the detonator. All the pieces were here. This was it. She was going home.

_**A/N:**__ Well, Relapse is drawing to a close! There will be one/a few more chapters and I'm definitely writing a sequel. If you want to stick around for that, be my guest! It will be A/E, so if you don't like slash stay away. Please let me know what you think of the chapter with a review, it's much appreciated! S xxxx_


	29. Twenty Eight

**Twenty Eight**

"How is he?" Ariadne asked quietly.

"Eames?"

She nodded.

Arthur chuckled. "Useless. Eats, sleeps, watches movies... that's it," he said with a grin, winding an arm around Ariadne's waist as they curled up on the sofa.

She giggled and returned the favour, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "So... the same as us, then?" she pointed out.

Arthur laughed as he flicked through the channels of the TV. He still loved how it actually worked, despite that it was full of programmes he'd seen before and went cloudy in the areas he hadn't actually listened to when he watched them in real life. Better than nothing, regardless. "I suppose. But any time I go for something to eat, the refrigerator is empty. If we don't get him home soon, he's gonna be the size of a house."

With a laugh, Ariadne looked up to see him grinning, white teeth glistening in the dimly lit apartment. She craned her neck to kiss him on the cheek. "You'd be upset if he wasn't here," she replied easily.

Arthur snorted and kissed her gently. "Not if I had you," he murmured sweetly.

A smile tweaked at her lips as Ariadne kissed him tenderly, her hand caressing his hollow cheek. "It's late," she said in little more than a whisper.

"Want to go to bed?" Arthur asked as quick as a flash.

She giggled, tugging at his lip lightly with her teeth. "I'd like that."

* * *

Bridie blew out a massive breath as she put her head back on this icy cold wall. She could do this, she knew it. The pieces were a tangled mess but intact. She continued to string them together as the gravity in the tower shifted restlessly and Yusuf and Eames' bodies slid too close for comfort. The main part of the wiring was done and the fifth piece in place when she knew she was taking far too long. She glanced at her watch. Midnight. This was their objective, get the job done by midnight. What had taken so long? Had it really been an hour since she was in the van?

Judging by her blue fingers and heavy lids, she'd been up fiddling with the detonator for half an hour. The other half of the wiring was done when she heard the scuffle. The door battered open and the gunman appeared, his abdomen horrifically decayed by his body acids. He looked like a zombie from the waist down. And he was wielding a gun.

The bullet sounded and her thumb zoomed for the detonator's now lit button.

The question was, which hit it's mark first?

* * *

"Yusuf! What the fuck are you doing here?" Eames all but yelled, shoving himself off the sofa.

The Chemist grimaced as he stepped into full sight of Eames. "Look, I didn't even see the guy-"

"There's a guy! With her and the bombs! You... wanker!" Eames spat, rubbing the bridge of his nose in fury.

Yusuf stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Eames. She's smart, she can do this," he assured him, going on to explain exactly what had happened.

"I could punch you..." he stammered, pacing up and down the room. "She's on top of a freezing skyscraper with a detonator to assemble and a Cobol thug to outlast?!" He pulled out his phone and dialled Dom.

"Hey, Eames. What's up?" Dom drawled lazily, like he'd been sleeping.

"Hey, mate. Listen... Yusuf's dead," Eames said quietly, running his hands through his hair.

Eames heard him sigh and groan. "Serious?" he asked, like Eames would lie about such a thing.

"C'mon, even I wouldn't joke about this. The fact is Bridie is alone up there on top of a skyscraper with one of the guys she should be working for. And he delivered a nice little bullet to Yusuf's forehead, so he's a good shot too," Eames spoke quickly.

Dom sighed and thought for a second. "I trust your judgement, Tom. How much faith do you have in this girl?" he questioned.

"Dom-"

"No, Tom. No stupid excuses. Do you trust your life, Arthur's life and our lives with her?"

"Yes, Dom. I love her and I trust her wholeheartedly," Eames replied honestly.

"Good," Dom replied, knowing Eames had turned bright red. "We'll just wait for the kick, okay? Just hang on in there," Dom proposed.

Eames nodded as Dom hung up. He put his phone away and turned to Yusuf, his gaze falling to his shoes. "Sorry," he muttered ashamedly. "That was uncalled for."

Yusuf smiled dryly. "It's okay. You're worried, I get it," he said.

Eames sighed. "Make yourself at home, I'm a little lonely with my brother away jacking up the Architect," he told him with a slack grin as he traipsed towards the door.

Yusuf snorted. "You're as vile as ever, Mr Eames," he chuckled.

Eames just nodded. "I know, mate. I know."

* * *

"What's wrong?" Ariadne whispered, leaning back as she sensed Arthur's reluctance. His t-shirt slid from her fingers as her smile dissipated.

Arthur looked shamefully at his feet, using his elbows to push himself off the wall. He came close to Ariadne, his arms winding around her chest. "I guess it just bothers me that this is a dream. Don't you want our first time to be, I don't know, real?" he murmured softly.

Ariadne kissed him softly, tracing his only tattoo with her finger tip. "It doesn't matter to me. All that matters is I have you," she replied quietly.

Arthur's expression softened at her words, his eyes melting into hers. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

He let out a sigh. "Just, please... tell me if I hurt you," he muttered, pressing his lips to hers.

Suddenly, the ground shuddered under their feet and Arthur groaned. "Seriously?" he muttered as it shook.

Ariadne giggled. "To be continued?" she proposed.

"Sure."

Ariadne fetched his t-shirt from the ground and passed it over before running out onto the balcony of the small apartment. This was definitely it, the already crumbling buildings of Limbo were crashing to the floor and the sky was rumbling.

Arthur joined her in seconds, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Ariadne, I will do everything in my power to protect you when we wake up on that plane," he promised her as he buried his face in her sweet smelling hair.

"I love you, Arthur, and I'll fight for you," she replied.

Arthur smiled. "Together?"

"Together."

With their hands interlinked, the Point Man and the Architect pitched themselves from the tower. Just before he hit the ground, Arthur's eyes snapped open and he was staring at the cool interior of a first class cabin.

* * *

Eames' eyes fluttered open, his hand shooting to his gun as he did. He sat up so abruptly his head swam and he ripped his PASIV cable from his wrist. No sooner had he come to his senses than someone grabbed his gun and shoved him back.

He caught a glimpse of the outside world as he fell to the ground. They'd landed and they certainly weren't in DC. His eyes zoned back to the person who'd assaulted him and his heart skipped a beat when he looked down the barrel of his own handgun. One of Cobol's men towered over him, their finger sliding unbearably close to the trigger.

Then, the man crumpled to the ground as someone brought the butt of their gun to the base of his skull, knocking him out cold. Bridie reached down and pulled Eames to his feet, grinning in relief as she handed him his gun. "It's been awhile, sweetheart."

"You're just fucking magical, darling," Eames muttered in awe, planting a kiss on her forehead before taking in the rest of the cabin.

Everyone else was just coming to. Arthur sat up at a dizzying pace, his hand fluttering to his gun as he ripped out his cable with his teeth. Ariadne was less urgent, taking time not to damage the vital veins in her wrist as she removed the needle.

There must have been about eight gunmen sprawled out on the ground, including the one Bridie had just knocked out.

"What do we do?" Arthur asked worriedly, his gun trained on the twitching men.

"Yusuf and I are just pedestrians, okay?" Dom called from his seat.

"Coward," Eames snapped.

Bridie lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Let's just focus on getting out of here," she assured him.

A trembling Ariadne spoke up next. "Let's just make a run for it, open an emergency exit or something," she proposed.

Eames nodded, his mind ticking. This particular airport was very small, they wouldn't have walkway exits for a plane this big. They'd just have steps. "We need to wait until they've got the stairs in place."

"Then we have to run like hell, I can see the cops from here," Ariadne insisted, glancing worriedly out the window at crowds of men swathed in black and cars with flashing and wailing sirens.

Eames gasped. "You don't think-"

"There's no other reason why they'd land early, Eames. They found us out," Arthur replied. There were clicks and a sucking noise as the main door opened further down the aircraft. "Now! Arthur yelled.

But they were too late. The thugs had taken this as their cue to come to life, their own guns appearing. One shot at Bridie and Eames decided it was his turn to play saviour, pulling Bridie down with him. He shot one man in the ankle before getting the best cover he could from the chair, Bridie shielded behind him and her own gun firing into the men, one bullet meeting a man's calf. As she knew only too well, the pain was unbearable.

Three down. Five to go.

Eames felt a bullet whiz past his ear as he shot a man square in the chest. He apologised under his breath but what he had at risk was far more precious than his conscience. "Let's go," he told Bridie and they ducked out of hiding, sprinting down the cabin and towards the door. A piercing cry made Eames shiver as he ran. Someone else was hurt and their scream was all too familiar.

Bridie shot one of the men trained on Arthur and Ariadne as they ran and he fell. There was only one left standing and he collapsed, revealing a shell shocked young architect wielding a smoking gun, her arm coiled around the agonized Point Man's waist. There was a bullet embedded in Arthur's shoulder, much to Eames' shock.

Eames leapt forward, pulling Arthur's limp form over his shoulder. "Hang in there, darling," he murmured to his brother. "Bridie, you go first. And try not to get shot, sunshine!"

Bridie snorted and yanked aside the curtain hiding the cabin from the rest of the world. The half empty business class cabin looked at her with wide eyes as she pointed her gun at them. An air hostess stood by the open door, frozen mid speech.

"Ari, sweetie, have my back," Eames instructed.

"He took it for me," Ariadne said, tears brimming in her eyes.

Eames gave her a sympathetic look and closed his hands over hers, helping her to take a firmer grasp of the gun. "It's okay, darling. He'll be fine," he assured her before following Bridie into business class.

"You going to let us off, pet?" Bridie asked kindly of the shocked hostess. She merely nodded. "Good choice, I don't really want to hurt you. Too much blood spilled," Bridie replied before bolting for the door. The sun momentarily blinded her as she hopped down the steps, ever aware of Eames on her tail.

"Stand down! We are heavily armed!" an officer cried through his megaphone.

"Not a chance!" Bridie cried, jumping the last few steps and shooting bullets at the cops' feet, watching in satisfaction as they jumped back. "Run, run, run!" she cried to the others and did just that, wanting to put major distance between herself and the American police.

* * *

Later, Dom Cobb fell down onto the double bed of his hotel room, a groan escaping his lips as he did so. It was calm, almost too calm for him now, in the small South Carolina hotel in the middle of nowhere. The bullets, the blood, the screaming... all done, all ghosts.

Arthur slung over Eames' shoulder, whimpering in agony over the bullet in his shoulder.

That was Dom's next task. He was to create a totem of sorts, a novelisation of the truth. When he doubted what he knew, he merely had to pull out the notepad and read. A documentation of Arthur and Eames' past, their real past, a story of pain, love, chivalry and, above all, family.

He pulled out the cheap notebook he'd bought in the newsagents, uncapping his pen as he went. _My name is Dominic Cobb, _he wrote, _and this is the truth._

_**A/N: **__That's the end! It's been an amazing two months, I have to admit. I've had a lot of fun writing Relapse and I honestly can't believe this is it. Look out for the sequel (you won't have to wait long) and I'll also put up photos of the OCs in Relapse and the sequel (Trigger) on my profile page. Until we meet again, DFTBA, guys and thank you so much for all your support! :D S xxxxx_


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